


Parallel Hearts

by watercolouredreams, xofunghoul



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: Angst, Best Friends to Lovers, Boys In Love, Developing Relationship, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, M/M, Slow Burn, idiots to lovers, soft ben hardy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2020-10-25 11:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 66,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watercolouredreams/pseuds/watercolouredreams, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xofunghoul/pseuds/xofunghoul
Summary: When two hearts run on parallel lines, they must choose whether to let the space between force them apart, or accept that they're meant to be. No matter what.(otherwise summed up as, can best friends be lovers too?)





	1. Dreaming of you in Technicolor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, Happy Joe's Birthday!!  
As a gift to you all, we (Me and my friend Allie, who'll appear as co-writer in this soon enough) decided it was the perfect opportunity to post this baby we've been working on for so long.  
We absolutely love this story and these two idiots and we really hope you guys do too.  
And to those who've been waiting for this so patiently, thank you so much!

The sound of the wheels of the suitcase resonates loudly inside the empty West London house as Ben makes his way inside. He feels like he hasn’t been home in forever, so much that it barely feels like home anymore, but like it or not, it is his home. 

As he settles in, he gets lost in his own thoughts. It has been a while since he’s lived entirely by himself and stayed in the same place for more than a few weeks but that is what he’s finally doing now. 

The last couple of years had been hectic. He’s filmed three blockbuster movies back to back which made him travel the world. And being a big shot actor comes with extra work like award seasons, press tours and fashion shows. But that is all done now, at least for a while and he is finally back home. If he’s going to be honest, and he is because after all it’s just him now, he’s terrified about the upcoming loneliness he knows he’s going to start feeling soon. 

He has to go back to his old life, his old friends, his family, but he feels that he’s different now. It isn’t a lie when they said during the press tour that Bohemian Rhapsody changed them all and turned them into a new family. Ben knows it’s going to be hard for him to let go of that all on his own. Gwilym has Dana, Rami has Lucy… he doesn’t even have Frankie anymore, he travels so much it was pointless for him to keep the lovely beagle dog he misses so much. 

Ben knows he should be happy. He’s in a place he couldn’t even begin to dream when he got into acting but he’s no star. He doesn’t feel like one. He feels like everybody else. He gets sad like everybody else. He feels normal, ordinary. He’s just Ben Jones, here, alone, in his very much empty apartment surrounded by silence. 

The thought of the mundane things he has to start doing on his own hunts him a little. For nine years he did everything with someone else, someone he loved. And it used to bring him joy, even the most normal things like preparing lunch, making the bed, doing laundry, he was fine with it. He enjoyed life with someone else, sharing chores, helping each other, doing something for someone else. The selfless act of doing something simple and unexpected for the person you love. Ben misses all that. Now he doesn’t know where he is gonna get the strength to do all that just for himself. 

He comes to the realization that he doesn’t like being single. And he really doesn’t like being alone. 

Once he mechanically puts away most of his belongings and his suitcase, because it’s going to be a while until he uses it again, he slumps on his couch and looks around the place. He hasn’t lived in this house yet, not really and it shows. The place still looks brand new even though he got it sometime during the filming of Bohemian Rhapsody began, right after his break up. 

With the crazy schedules he manages he rarely had time to come back there. Then he was in America for a while, then Italy, then America again. He’d stop there maybe for a week or two in between, always knowing he’s about to leave again soon. Now he’s going nowhere, not for a while at least and he starts thinking he needs to make this place feel bit more like home. 

He makes a mental note to buy a few things to decorate the place. He remembers he was given a “copy” of Queen’s Greatest Hits vinyl with their faces photoshopped into the original 4 members and he thinks he could frame that and put it up. It will make him smile every time he looks at it and brighten his day for sure. It’s making him smile even now on his own, thinking about that journey and how crazy everything was, he still can’t believe it. 

Ben gets his hand inside his pocket and checks his phone. His smile still lingers on as he reads that, in the group chat, Rami has been telling them all about being with Lucy in New York these past few weeks while he’s working on the final season of Mr. Robot and Joe complains that they’re in the same state and he never gets to see him. Rami promises he’ll ask him out soon and pleads him to not be jealous. Joe then mentions Ben, saying that if he was the one in the same state, he’d wouldn’t abandon him, all while joking of course, even though joking always comes with some kind of truth and it is in fact true that if Ben was there, he really wouldn’t leave Joe’s side. And then, Gwilym asks about Ben. Joe says he should be in London by now and that he said he would check in with them as soon as he got home and that’s when Ben remembers he hasn’t yet. 

On top of all of his emotions about his new life by himself, there’s Joe Mazzello. Fucking Joe. He still can’t quite figure out when was it that he started to develop feelings for the ginger. He isn’t even sure what those feelings mean to him, and to them. But he has them, they are there even though he decided to push them away. To ignore and neglect them. Because, what was he supposed to do? Tell him? One of his best friends now. How would that help them? He knew this moment, where he came home for good, was coming so what was the point? What was the point of falling in love knowing he was going to have to fall out of it later? 

No, Ben refused it. Not again. 

They teased each other though, endlessly too. Ben isn’t certain if Joe is in the same place he is. All those dark nights in the couch where they rubbed hands and rest their heads on each other’s shoulders. And all the silences they shared that sounded louder than anything they could tell each other with words, that he’s sure they wouldn’t even measure up to whatever they felt, none of that gave Ben any certainty. 

It didn’t mattered now anyway because, here he is, in London by himself. In London without Joe. 

In the group chat, Joe threatens to call Ben if he doesn’t show up soon so Ben fires up a text because he doesn’t feel like talking now. 

_ “Sorry. Got home alright. I’m knackered. Talk later.” _

  


** **********

“Home sweet home,” Joe says softly to no one in his empty living room. The irony of coming home to an empty house does not escape him. A house without its occupant does not pause itself; it keeps gathering dust and collecting particles on surfaces, as if to say, _ I was still alive while you were gone, and now you have returned, you shall resume your cleaning responsibilities. _

Joe snorts. 

He takes a glance at his luggage next, thinking about the amount of laundry he has to do. Aloud, he sighs. At what age can he stop pretending to be an adult? 

Or rather, if he’d been honest about it, the real question he wants to ask is, how can he rewind time and return to Catalina, where the sky and the sea share alternating shades of blue, and the sunset a spectacular play of burning colours over darkening horizon. He and Ben were standing at the edge of the vantage point overlooking the cove and the skyline, taking in the sunset view. There’s a careful distance between them; one that is neither alienating nor intimate, it is just correctly spaced and measured for _ buddies _.

“Oh wow,” Joe had spoken first, because he isn’t one for silences. “Isn’t that sunset surreal or what?”

Ben nodded. When they got there Ben had been smoking, but his all-white menthol was now burning away silently between his fingers, forgotten. He must have liked the view a significant lot.

He shifted a leg, and the long but fragile line of burnt ashes, clinging to whatever was left of Ben’s cigarette, trembled and fell unceremoniously on the ground. Neither of them said it, but for the next five days they spent on the island, they never failed to return to the same spot for the sunset view. Joe learned that no sunset look quite exactly the same with the one before it, each time. 

“I’ll miss this view,” Ben finally said on the last day they were on the island. 

“Well, yeah mate, me too,” Joe said, declaring his agreement. What he chose not to say out loud was how much more he will miss the younger man, even more than each and all of the beautiful sunsets they have seen on the beautiful island. He will miss his best friend, with his wistful eyes and golden blonde locks billowing in the sea breeze. He had let his hair grew out after he completed filming his latest film, it’s longer and wavy now, and sometimes Joe had to resist the urge to reach out and run his fingers through them.

Platonically speaking, of course. It would be a platonic hair-touching. Just like all the platonic arm-hugging, eye-gazing, sole-touching, bum-spanking they had done before. Harmless, best-friends-only stuff. And people don't get their inside jokes because they're more than best friends, they're _ soulmates _. Does he really believe in the idea that your soul knows its other half, therefore seeks it in its lifetime? Maybe, or maybe not completely. But he believes that meeting Ben and getting to know him when he did, after all the timing was impeccable no matter how you think about it--he was going through the health decline and eventual loss of his father, Ben was newly single from a long term relationship--was almost something that was meant to be; they hit pretty low points and were there for each other, and then reached new height with the worldwide success of the movie they were both starring in. Does being his friend, being in his company, felt like the most natural thing for him? Yes, without a doubt. He likes being around Ben. He is down for every crazy ideas and quiet conversations and knows exactly when seriousness is needed too. In fact, Joe would argue that sometimes Ben is the one who has the craziest ideas. Ben is like the better version of himself. He is younger and more insecure because who isn't, but damn, Joe even likes himself better when he's with Ben. Sure, maybe it’s a little unnerving sometimes, but what could be more amazing than having a best friend like that?

He takes out his phone, checks the time and notifications. Ben should have touched down a couple of hours ago and by now should be home. He opens their groupchat. Rami has just replied to his text from three days ago asking if he would be in New York _ yesterday _. 

_ No, Joe, I wasn't. But I was the day before _, was the reply. 

_ Too little, too late, Rami. What do I do with that information today _? He insert a squinty-eyed, tight-lipped emoji for good measure. 

Gwil replied with a crying-laughing emoji. _ Where’s Benny boy, btw? _ He added. 

Joe waits to see if _ Ben Jones is typing… _ would come up at the top of the screen, but nothing. 

Instead, Rami replied with a lone sad face emoji. _ Don't you love me anymore, Joey? _

_ No _ , Joe types. _ I love Lucy more than you now because she doesn't reply to my text three days late. _

Gwil is typing. _ Well, he's got a point there, mate. _ Three laughing emojis.

Joe replies to Gwil's earlier text. _ I don't know, mate. He said he would text as soon as he gets home. _

Nobody said anything for a while after that, and Joe goes on to check other messages he received. Mom, Mary, Chace, Eric. John sent him a picture of his kids making funny faces with a bunch of random emojis following it. _ They sent u those _, was John’s explanation underneath it. 

_ I miss them so much! _ Is Joe's reply. 

_ We miss u 2, come ovr tmrw 4 lunch _. 

_ Will do. Hugs and kisses to my two little funny bunnies. _

Joe thinks it’s absurdly funny that John is just three years younger than he is but types like a teenage boy. But then again, this is also the same guy who, when they had one of those brotherly arguments and Joe told him he'd kill him in his sleep one of these days, replied, well, that's not a bad way to die, actually. _ Ladies and gentlemen, meet my crazy younger brother, John Mazzello, whom I may or may not have regretted making a movie based on his real life story for. _

His phone buzzed a notification from the groupchat, it has two crowns on either side of its name, because why not.

It’s Ben.

_ Sorry. Got home alright. I’m knackered. Talk later. _

Joe’s fingers hovered for what seemed the longest time over his iPhone’s keypad. His immediate reaction was to say something similar to what he had replied to Rami earlier. Call Ben off for dismissing him and Gwil and their collective parental concern like that. How dare he. But for some reason he stopped short from doing it.

He waits and stares at his phone. What is he waiting for? That’s right, there isn't even any direct text coming in for him. Not to say that Ben has to, or that he doesn’t text privately with Rami or Lucy or Gwil too, just that he and Ben tend to have a lot more to talk about with each other usually. Whenever they’re quiet in the groupchat, it means that they’re most likely just texting each other instead.

He tries not to overthink it. After all, why should he. Maybe Ben is really, really just tired and has since passed out, Joe rationalizes. He can be like that, and has this superhuman ability to sleep for as long as he wants to, while Joe on the other hand, is a light sleeper. He can't even have the sound of television or air conditioning droning in the background when he wants to fall asleep. 

In the groupchat, Gwil replied to Ben’s text. _ Glad to know you're safely home, mate. Have a good rest. _

Joe still doesn't know what he wants to say. The seconds that tick by turn into minutes, and as they inevitably grow in number, finally he starts typing. 

In the groupchat, he writes, _ thank god, Benny! One more minute of silence from you and I would have called the police, CIA, FBI and the Interpol _

In their personal text message, he types, _ I hope the flight wasn't too bad and the jet lag bearable. I figured you must have passed out by now, sleepyhead. Talk to you later mate! _

He presses send.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a start!  
What do you guys think? Was it worth the wait?  
A lot more coming soon, we've already have A LOT written down, it just needs some love and edit so we won't take forever with updates hopefully.  
Let us know what you think so far either here in the comments or come talk to us on our tumblrs!
> 
> [Allie](https://halfasleepoetry.tumblr.com/)'s and [mine](https://heybuddy-drabbles.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Read you guys soon!


	2. Breathing you in like oxygen and poison in my lungs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the second chapter, finally!  
Sorry we took so long but to make up for it, the next one will be uploaded in the next few days, since we're pretty much done editing it. Isn't that exciting? (for us, maybe)  
Enjoy!

It’s been a few days since he’s been back in London and Ben can’t seem to get out of his funk. He’s only been out of his house a couple of times and just because he needs some essentials. He tries his best to camouflage himself to not be recognized and as far as he knows he’s successful because no one stops him along the way and he is relieved. And then, everything else he can buy online, he does. 

His London friends demand his presence now that he’s back in town and he keeps making up excuses, saying he’s busy, which he is, in a way. He’s making himself busy. He makes himself busy so he doesn’t have to think too much. But he does. Time and time again he ends up thinking and overthinking about a certain ginger. He wants to think his loneliness in his new empty house is playing a trick on him and this is why he finds himself missing Joe this much. They spent so much time together the last couple of months that it’s just so weird not knowing when is he going to see him next and apparently, the uncertainty is weighing on him now. He got so used to being around Joe that it’s very hard to see himself just going back to his life before him. Yes, they can text and talk and FaceTime, it’s not like he’s not part of his life anymore, but it’s just not the same. _It’s not enough._

But that’s ridiculous, isn’t it? After all he had quite decided that this is the last thing he needs right now. The possibility of falling for someone, and a best friend, no less, is just absurd. It has to be. He has got to stop thinking about this. It just doesn’t make any sense, and it never will. He’s home now, Bohemian Rhapsody is over, it was a great experience, will always be one of the best in his lifetime, and he will always have all the friendships and connections forged in that period of time, intact. Especially with Joe, Rami and Gwil. No matter what they would end up doing in the future, no matter where they are.

So why is it that whenever he thinks about his upcoming plans in the near future not having Joe’s constant presence in them, he feels like he can’t breathe? 

Ben is sitting at the dining table in his living room when he’s overwhelmed by all these emotions, food left uneaten in front of him, he rubs his face in frustration and chooses to smoke his worries away for a while. He lights up a stick and takes a long drag out of it, flicking the ashes in the unused glass in front of him. Somewhere on the table, his phone is buzzing. He hasn’t been really checking it all day, so he reaches for it with the cigarette hanging on his mouth as he takes another handless drag. He opens it up and sees the wave of notifications coming in and it’s too much for him right now. He’s about to put it away again but his eyes catches a text--no, actually, a few, from Joe.

He opens them, and then scrolls back a little to reread their last few interactions as he takes another deep drag before using that same hand holding his cigarette to press a thumb on his temple. He really is being an asshole. Joe’s being his usual self, sending him funny texts and a few pictures with his nephews. He’s been visiting his brother, Joe tells him, and Ben smiles at the idea of an afternoon with uncle Joe. 

_ “Cute. Don’t spoil them too much, they’ll come for your fortune one day.” _

Ben attempts at a joke and sends the text in hopes that it makes Joe stop wondering why he’s being so off lately, only replying to him in monosyllables and not starting a conversation or telling him much. The text does quite the opposite, apparently, because as soon as Ben puts his phone down and finishes his cigarette, the phone starts buzzing again and it’s not a text.

When Ben sees it’s Joe calling him he hesitates a little. He doesn’t know if he is ready to talk to him but he hasn’t heard his voice in a few days so he finally picks up. 

“Hey, buddy.” Ben says and kind of wants to kick himself for the stupid reference but it is how he actually calls people after all. It’s how he calls Joe sometimes and other friends too. The fact that it has another meaning now is his, or their, own fault. 

“Hey, Ben. You're alive!” Joe sounds cheerful, but it’s hard to miss the slight sarcasm in his tone.

“Very much so, mate, yeah. What's up?” At the other end, Ben's tone is so forcefully flat and neutral, that it is neither his usual self nor his present one. He shuts his eyes tight and tries to relax. It's just a phone call.

“Oh, nothing much, really. I heard I'm good at lazing around,” there is a scuffle and then, from a distance, as if the phone is no longer near Joe, “Jeez--what--ugh!” Another scuffle, and then his voice is back to normal. “So, how's London?”

“Humid.” Ben frowns at the weird noises, finding them an easy distraction. “Everything alright there, Joe?” He asks curiously as he begins easing himself into the familiar and comfortable role of being concerned about his friend.

“Yeah, yeah, just some asshole who doesn't know how to use their turn signals. Fucking New York drivers.” He pauses before asking, “Wish you were still in sunny LA?”

“Well...not really. Not now that you're in New York at least.” At least he’s telling Joe the honest truth. “Hey, are you driving? Be careful okay?”

“Okay, **mom**.” Ben can clearly see Joe grinning from ear to ear, it's so apparent in his voice. “I'll see Rami and Lucy in a couple of days, and stay here for the rest of the week.” He shrugs. “I kinda hate it that the house is empty now.” Ben tries hard not to think about what Joe is saying, and if what he’s saying is what Ben thinks he is saying. Joe continues, “and I figured I should spend some time with mom. Just doing some family-related stuff, really. “

Ben holds his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he gets up from his seat and takes his uneaten lunch to the kitchen while he hears his friend talk. “That's nice, Joe. Spending some time with your family.” 

“What about you? What have you been up to? Have you been busy?”

He looks at his plate and answers. “I was having lunch just now. But there's not much going on.” He leaves out the part where all he's been doing these past few days is brooding.

“You mean you have not been going out drinking and having wild parties without me in London and simultaneously not replying to my text?” Joe asks, his tone incredulous. He’s messing around, Ben knows. “What a travesty! At least do one of them right, Jones.” he continues in the same playful manner.

Ben hears the sarcasm, loves and loathes it at the same time. Joe is right. He should at least try to appear like he’s having a semblance of a great time now that he’s back home. The only problem is that he isn’t feeling like it. What he is used to, and understands to be home now feel a little less, a little lacking. Like it’s missing something. Or someone. “I suppose I should go out partying tonight. Wouldn't want to disappoint you,” he says noncommittally and moves from the kitchen to the living room and sits in his couch, already aching for another cigarette. At least he didn’t sound morose or upset when he said that. Or at least he hoped so.

But there is a pause at the end of the line and he thinks that maybe he’s wrong after all. Maybe Joe really does think that he’s being an asshole and hates him for it. Which he probably deserves. But he cannot help it. The situation is just so wretchedly weighing down on him right now. Here he is, talking to the one and only person he had wanted to hear from for days, who is also the same person he has been avoiding. It’s just so ironic, if it isn’t so equally painful. 

Then Joe laughs, and Ben lets out a breath he doesn’t know he was holding. He blinks and wonders at which point in time since he had known Joe that he had let him have this much effect on him? He was worried that Joe hates him for a second, and then was relieved that he wasn’t. What’s next? Worrying that Joe does not really miss his presence as much he does his? _ What’s going on here_?

“Choosing wild parties over me huh, I see how it is now.”

Ben laughs a little, mostly at himself and how ridiculous he is being right now. Time to change the topic. “You know how you said your house felt empty? Well, same here, so I've been working on it a little, you know? Putting up pictures. Trying to make it look lived in. I haven't been here in forever.”

“That’s great Ben, but so is calling up some mates and going out a little.” Joe sounds genuinely concerned for a change. “Some emptiness can't simply be filled, you know. You gotta bring yourself out of it sometimes.” There is a brief pause where neither of them says anything. Ben does not like the silence, but he simply cannot think of anything to say. Of course Joe is right. He always is. The only problem is that the more he thinks of this emptiness, the more he wants it to be filled by the older man’s presence. Which is ridiculous. Absolutely bloody ridiculous. “Okay, I don't mean you should go and have wild parties without me because I’d want in on that,” Joe breaks the tension with a light-hearted jab at Ben's brooding silence. “But seriously, go out, why don't you? You were having lunch all by yourself at home? That shit's depressing, even for me.” Joe is berating him, he knows, but Ben could have sworn that he doesn't mind even if Joe is angry, if it means he could hear the deep concern in the older man's voice. _ He cares _ , Ben thinks, _ and I’m just pathetic _. “Don't make me fly my ass to London and drag you out of your house, Benjamin.”

“Maybe I will make you do exactly that,” he surprises himself a little by saying this, almost unintentionally, but completely honest. So he laughs, and hopes it doesn’t come across as an anxious or nervous one, because he is everything but calm and collected the moment Joe mentions about coming to London. Joe can’t possibly be serious, but on the other hand, Ben couldn’t help but think about Joe being in London with him. And wanting it to happen, so badly.

When he hears Joe laughing too at the end of the line, he continues. "Or, it would be nice if I step outside of the house and it’s LA and I can have some avocado toasts."

"You're a little bit obsessed, aren’t you?" Joe accuses and Ben laughs, easier and lighter this time. "I thought you’d miss the great weather, the sun and the beach, and the drive up to Santa Monica."

"Yeah of course the weather, the beach, the sunsets and oh," he says as an afterthought, “now that I think about it, the company isn’t too bad too,” he teases further.

“Yeah, I’m not too bad, compared to all the crazy wild London parties you go to,” Joe says in mock dejection and Ben laughs again, louder this time. Joe rarely ever lets go of things and this time is no different. It’s hilarious, really.

And Ben misses him even more now.

"See? It’s so nice to hear you laugh like a normal person again." Joe points out. "Look, Ben, missing things, or people, is normal. It will get easier."

_ Will it? _ Ben wants to ask, and maybe, _ does it get easier for you? _

And then it dawns on him suddenly that he doesn’t want it to get easier. He just wants Joe to be here. Or him, there.

“I mean, I can’t pretend that I completely understand,” Joe starts again, and Ben could feel his heart getting increasingly heavier, as if it’s slowly, but surely, sinking. Of course he doesn’t expect Joe to feel the same. They’re best friends, and he’s probably looking way too much into this. Sure, they are close. It didn’t start out that way when they met before filming, but they hit it off almost instantly, as if they’ve never not known each other before. By the time filming finished, they were definitely closer than anyone else were on set. 

When he had to go to film Six Underground and missed the press tour, he almost did not want to go. Almost, because his work ethics are bigger than anything else in his life, there was no question about whether he was going to do it or not when it comes down to it. But Bohemian Rhapsody had unexpectedly become something larger and more important than anything he had ever done before.

And then there’s Joe, of course.

The night of the premiere, before he had to be whisked away to the airport in an MPV waiting for him at the basement parking lot, Joe insisted on walking with him and taking the elevator down. They had been talking about one thing or other, he couldn’t recall them exactly now, but it doesn’t matter. What he could recall clearly from that night was being stuck between feeling like he can’t wait to jet off to Italy and then the Emirates for the next 2 to 3 months, and strangely not wanting to be anywhere else but here. He isn’t one for being sentimental, especially when it comes to work, but can he even honestly think of this as just work anymore?

He was halfway lost in his thoughts, if not for Joe’s voice coming through the phone again. “If anything, my track record with relationships is a lot worse.” A chuckle, and Ben shakes his head, chuckling to himself. Of course. To Joe, this isn’t about him. And there is absolutely no reason why he should think otherwise.

“Right,” he says without thinking.

“Ouch.”

Ben laughs, because Joe is predictable, but mostly at himself, because there is nothing predictable about the way he feels right now.

“You said it, not me.”

Joe shrugs. “You keep on laughing like that, so it’s worth it.” Ben tries not to think of the way Joe would smile as he says this. Perhaps sensing his silence, Joe speaks again. “Do you...still think of her?”

“No,” he answers instantly, and swallows the rest of the almost automatic _ ‘but I do think of you, sometimes’ _. Instead, he says, “this isn’t about that. Not about her. It’s just,” he pauses, searching for the right way to say it, “this is the first time in a very long time that I’m living on my own, you know?” and before Joe could say anything to that, he continues, “It’s a little strange, and lonely, but it will go away with time, like you said, I’m sure. That’s also why I have been rearranging stuff, making it more of my own space,” he tries sounding upbeat. It works. “I even put up one of the greatest hits album with our faces on the wall,” he says, looking up at the four of them up there.

"No way! You did? Take a photo and let me see it!" Joe sounds positively pumped up now.

Ben shrugs. "If you want to see it you'd have to come see it yourself." There’s a sliver of hope hidden somewhere in the teasing, no matter how silly it is. People like them work around schedules, often planned ahead in time. Especially when it comes to travelling. There’s always a reason for going somewhere, so there is no way Joe is going to make a sudden trip across the Atlantic, unless he has work or an event scheduled here. Still, it’s a joke, and one that is worth saying, even if Joe would never see it as anything more.

But Joe is laughing now, and almost immediately after that, he says,"I hope you weren't joking because I'm actually thinking about it."

"Wait, really?" Ben asks, not quite believing what he’d just heard. It was, honestly, for all purpose and intent, just a joke. But now it gets him sitting up on his sofa. "You'd come to London? Are you even free to come?"

"Yeah," Joe says, like it’s no big deal. "I just need to be in New York for, let’s see, the next three days. Then I’ll fly to London,” he pauses, “if you want me to."

"Are you kidding?” _ Is this really happening? _ “Of course I want to see your stupid face.” What the bloody hell is going on here, and why is he smiling so wide his jaw might hurt? Why is he so happy, so suddenly?

Joe laughs. “Hey, hey, be nice, Jones. Don’t make me change my mind.” 

Ben laughs too. It’s kind of hard not to. “I'd be happy to have you here, mate." And he has never truly meant it more than right now. He’s absolutely, positively overjoyed, he could barely believe it. So bloody overjoyed.

"Okay, I’ll see you in four days then," Joe says in the same unaffected tone.

_ Just like that? Can you even find a flight in such a short notice? _ Ben wants to ask, but decides against it. He wants this to actually happen, not to dampen Joe’s determination or worse, jinx it. He hopes there would be a hundred flights coming in to London from New York for the next several days, with empty seats. He hopes to see Joe in four days. He hopes he wouldn’t have to kill anyone if it doesn’t actually happen. “You're bloody lunatic, Joseph,” he says instead, shaking his head. Joe laughs. And the great thing about this exchange between them that is currently happening on the phone, hidden from each other’s sight, is that Joe doesn’t get to see him and tell from his eyes that he actually thought that the real bloody lunatic here is himself.

“Hey, between this phone call and a plane ticket to London, you’re a very expensive person to cheer up, so you better appreciate it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get the red carpet ready.” The only reason for the sarcasm in his voice is because if he doesn’t try, he'd actually sound earnest about it. 

“You better. Because I'm worth it," says Joe, like the commercial tagline, which makes Ben laugh, because all he could see now are the both of them, and Gwil, striking ridiculous poses at the pre SAG awards party in LA. 

They can't keep talking much after that, as Joe has to go. Truth be told, the only thing Ben could think of is the next four days until he gets to have Joe in London with him, and that puts him in such a mood that he almost wished that Joe doesn’t have anywhere else he has to be right now and the phone call doesn’t need to end. Sure, he could worry about how he is going to behave around the older man, with all these confusing feelings piling up and not showing any signs of going away, but it’s a price he’s willing to pay if it means he gets to keep talking to Joe, being with him around the clock for any number of days, and doing the silliest things around the city that they have or haven't done when they were here filming the movie. 

After hanging up, Ben looks around his place, eyes sweeping from one corner to the other, looking at everything he has put in place or still deliberating over, not really focusing on one thing. Then his gaze shifts to the windows on his left--and is that sunlight he sees filtering in? The day is brighter for a change, and so is the room he is sitting in right now. Four days. That's more than enough time to shape the place up, especially with the sudden motivation he's been given. So he gets up and sets to task, lunch and gloom both momentarily forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you excited or dreading the fact that Joe's coming to London to spend more time with Ben?  
Do you think Joe is on the same page?  
We'd love to hear from you and what you think of this chapter! Comments are like cookies. We love cookies (who doesn't?) so please leave your comment and we'll love you forever!


	3. Walking down the road to yesterday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We introduce a new character in this installment and we hope you guys love her as much as we do, especially since you're going to hear about her A LOT.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This story is, obvously, a work of fiction and we're not trying to claim anything that happens in this or any other chapter is real or truthful. We're simply taking moments and real life events as inspiration and filling the gaps with fiction.   
Enojy!

When Joe hangs up he gets right down to business, mentally checking off a list; meeting Eric, his agent, and a bunch of friends, no, acquaintances, tomorrow night for dinner, or rather a working dinner, as there will definitely be work being discussed then. He’ll have lunch with Rami and Lucy the day after. Mary will be back in New York the following day. Then, on the next day, he’ll fly to London to see Ben. He still needs to get a few things done in between, also laundry. He needs to book the flight too, so he’d cross check that with Eric.

Flying to London in three days to see Ben, no prior planning whatsoever, just spur-of-the-moment decision. Sure, no big deal. Except that he's the kind of person who would even schedule when to mop the house and change his bedsheet (every Friday, so he has time to sort his laundry and then does it on Saturdays). He doesn't do spontaneity. At some point in his life, he decided that if he's going to spend the rest of his life in the film industry, chasing after his elusive, creativity-fueled dreams, then the least semblance of normalcy he could have in his life would be in planning his weekly routine ahead and paying his taxes on time. Making the decision to fly across the Atlantic ocean in three days is not one of them.

Before he could go further with his thoughts however, his phone decided that it’s a good time to interrupt. He almost jumps when it rings and vibrates at the same time. He barely pauses to look at the screen before picking the call up.

“Joseph, honey, are you alright? I have been waiting here for 20 minutes now and it's so unlike you to be late and not call--”

Joe winces a little and rubs his forehead with his other hand. “Sorry mom, there was a call I had to make and it went on longer than I thought it would.” It is, after all, the truth. “I’m here, will see you in a few.” Shopping and lunch date with Virginia. They had this planned a couple of weeks ago. 

Dad used to take her out for a date at least once every two months. They’d dress up, dad would have flowers for her, she’d link her arm with his and they’d look like a newly married couple. Everytime. No matter how much mess and chaos and tantrum their three kids managed to cause that day. Once the kids had grown and moved out, they apparently went on dates all the time. Sometimes when he calls and ask her what are they up to, if they’re not at the academy, or tending to the garden, she’d tell him, ‘oh we’re out on a date,’ giggling, before telling him about this or that nice cafe or restaurant they were at. And Virginia is a great cook, so she fits right into the Mazzello's tradition of endless family lunches and dinners, but her husband makes her breakfast every single day of their married life, and once they have kids, he makes breakfast for everyone too. And that's one of the very vivid ways Joe will always remember his dad, first thing in the morning, no matter at what time he slept last night, he will be in the kitchen before everyone else, making breakfast, whistling _ Anything Goes _ in front of the stove, flipping pancakes or making sunny side ups.

He grabs his phone and puts it in the pockets of his jeans as he heads out of his car to meet Virginia, who’s been patiently waiting for him at the entrance of the shopping mall where they were supposed to meet 20 minutes ago. He rushes through the parking lot until he finally sees her, standing there, looking at her phone. She smiles wide when she finally sees him approach her and he smiles right back at her. 

“Honey, I was starting to worry. Is everything alright?” She asks him while embracing him in a tight hug and Joe kisses her cheek.

“Yes, I’m so sorry, mom,” he smiles apologetically. “something came up but everything is fine. Shall we?”

Joe offers his arm and Virginia links hers with it, resting also his other hand on her own. “I’m so happy we could do this Joey, I've missed you,” she hugs Joe’s arm tighter and Joe rests his head on hers for a second.

“Me too,” he smiles contentedly.

They walk arm in arm through the complex while they chat about various things, all revolving around the family. There’s always an uncle or a niece or a distant cousin mentioned somewhere in the conversation, and it’s one of the things Joe loves about being home. He can just shut off for a while and not think about anything else, at least for a day or two. Virginia is talking about her grandchildren now, how big they’re getting and how she’s reminded of the time when her own kids were little and how much she misses it. “No mom, that’s not true, you don’t,” Joe teases her, grinning, which earns him a light smack on his arm, the one linked with hers. Truth be told, he also misses those times, especially the ones with his dad, now that he’s no longer with them. He’s still waiting for the time when missing him would hurt less. 

He doesn’t mention it to Virginia though, he simply keeps listening and smiling and holding bags for her and offering to pay for nice things that she refuses to let him buy for her. “I don’t need that, Joseph,” she says about a nice powder-blue blazer that caught her eye. Joe knows it’s her favourite colour, and it would go very well with the scarf she’s wearing around her neck. He also knows she thinks it’s outrageously priced. Joe makes a mental note about getting it for her birthday or Mother’s Day, or if that’s too far away, he could always just buy it for her the next time he comes here.

After walking around for a while, they decide it’s time to stop to grab some lunch together. Joe offers to take her to a proper restaurant outside the mall but she, once again, refuses. “I saw a cafe on the ground floor as we were coming in. Let’s go there.” She reasoned that it’s rush hour in New York and they’ll spend more time driving around to find a place to park or worse, getting stuck in traffic, than the time they’d spend actually enjoying their lunch and conversation together so he’s somewhat convinced by the practicality. 

“Okay, you’re right.” He tells her as they make their way down to the ground floor.

“Of course I am, sweetie.” she says with a cheeky smile.

They got a table outside on a patio with wooden decking, where they’re surrounded by an indoor garden. Joe goes over to the counter where he orders a matcha latte with almond milk for himself, and a low-fat latte for his mom. He picks a house special sandwich and salad for two, and dessert for later. He brings their lattes over, while their food will be sent later to their table.

Joe sits down opposite his mom and watches as she takes off the scarf from around her neck. She does not own many scarves, and he certainly has never seen this one before. Even from where he’s sitting and looking, he could tell that it is exquisite; it’s sheer and the motif features two hummingbirds mid-flight, in green and red tones, and pink flowers with large, long petals like lilies. Everything is outlined in gold. The scarf itself is turquoise-blue, and due to its sheerness and the gold outlines, it tends to subtly shimmer, especially under natural light.

“Did Mary buy you that scarf recently?” he asks as she puts it away. It looks expensive and definitely something his mother wouldn’t buy herself. He'd remember it if he had bought something this eye-catching for her. Also, he wouldn’t have the slightest idea where to get something this elegant and beautifully crafted, and neither would John. Upon closer inspection, he thinks that the birds and flowers look like they were hand-painted.

“Oh, this?” she touches the scarf briefly with the tips of her fingers, “your friend, Ben, gave it to me a few months ago when you two were in New York and you brought him around for family lunch, remember?”

Joe blinks. Of course he remembers. Ben spent a whole couple of months in LA and was staying at his place. Except for when he, or Ben, or both, were at work, they basically spent every waking hour together, and he quite naturally included him in any non-work related thing he did. And Ben happily obliged. “I remember us going, I don’t remember him giving you that.”

“Well he did,” she says with a smile, as Joe finds himself thinking about that particular Mazzello family lunch. He already had the weekend in New York planned out, and two days before he was leaving for home, Ben found himself with nothing to do that weekend when his meetings were rescheduled. There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation or a question about the younger man following him to New York. Of course he had to come with him. Joe wouldn’t even think of leaving him alone in LA with nothing to do and nobody to keep him company. 

“He said he didn’t know the whole family was going to be there and he didn’t bring gifts for everyone.”

Joe thinks he could pinpoint the exact moment this happened. After lunch, before dessert was served, which by the way was his mom’s famous apple crumble, Ben had quietly left the table and headed to the kitchen minutes after Virginia did. He was curious, but also engaged in one of those very intense, very brotherly, not to mention very stupid, argument with John that he couldn’t possibly abandon because he was going to properly win it. And win it he did. When he finally did go check on Ben in the kitchen, he found the younger man chatting away with his mom as if they had known each other forever. He was absolutely being appropriately charming with her too. He chuckles. “He didn't have to. What made him think he had to?”

“That's what I told him exactly. He's such a sweetheart, isn't he?”

Joe shakes his head. He's smiling nonetheless, thoroughly amused by this piece of news. Ben brought a gift for his mom? How come he has never heard of this before? 

“He told me he has had the scarf for a while too. Do you remember during the night of the SAG awards, I told you that I liked a dress on an actress or other that had this beautiful sequinned hummingbirds on it? He said he saw this scarf when he was in Italy and it reminded him of me.”

Joe ponders over this for a while. “I don't think I have ever mentioned your comment on that dress to him,” he says carefully. Realizing this makes him even more surprised than he already is. 

“Well then maybe he overheard us talking,” Virginia concludes. “Isn't that very thoughtful of him, Joey? I hope you keep him around.”

“As a matter of fact, I’m going to see him in a few days. I’m going to London.”

“Really? Weren’t you two together in California just not long ago? Is he okay?”

“He’s okay, yes, but he recently moved and he's finding it a little hard to adjust,” he explains, “so I thought I’d give him a hand, keep him company for a while.”

“That’s very nice of you, honey,” Virginia looks at him and smiles."We chatted for a bit when he came over that afternoon too. You guys are pretty close, aren't you?"

“Yeah, we are, and with everyone else too. We still keep in touch with most people involved in the production.”

“That's good,” she nods. “I mean, it's good to have someone close to you who is as kind and thoughtful as he is. I worried a lot about how you were coping with filming and dad’s condition back then. I can see now you had wonderful people around you in London, and I’m glad.”

There was a brief silence when his late dad is mentioned, and Joe sips his latte while avoiding his mom’s gaze, and he doesn’t know if he does that for his mom’s sake, or his own. It’s still a subject that hit too close to his heart whenever it’s brought up. It felt too new and fresh. He imagined that if the memory still hurts him like a newly cut wound, how would it feel like for his mom? He looks up again, only to see his mom smiling at him still.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean that it was better for you not to be with dad during those times when you were away filming. But you were constantly with us and I could feel you declining together with him at times, that I felt bad for you for having to go through everything you did for him.''

Joe wants to say that it's not the case at all, and he's glad that caring for his dad had brought him back to New York, that he got to spend the most meaningful last two years with him by his side, at home, in the hospital, every night on Facetime when he was away, and he had felt the closest to him at the time when it mattered the most. The time when his dad really needed him, and he had never been so thankful for the fact that he doesn't hold a regular hour job like Mary or John, because it allowed him to choose to spend as much time as possible with him. But there is a lump in his throat now, and he finds himself unable to say anything. 

“You were always the sensitive one in the family, Joey, and yet you hardly ever talk about how you really feel about things.”

“Mom,” he pleads. “This isn't--it wasn't, about me.”

“Wasn’t it?” Her voice is so calm and composed that Joe feels like he is five again, they're home and he wants to stand up and go over to where his mom is sitting and bury his face in her lap. But he is not. And they're outside. But he can still feel his mom’s gaze on him, it feels like it’s illuminating things he has been trying so hard to keep hidden away from view. It’s not making him uneasy or nervous, it’s making him inexplicably sad. It feels like choking on tears he has been holding back for so long, and he’s not going to be able to say anything without crying. But he needs to change the topic of this conversation.

So he’s relieved when she lets it go. “Alright, Joey, if you say so,” she says, smiling, and as soon as she said it, she lets out a deep breath and continues talking.

“Do you know what is the most difficult thing about losing your dad?” she asks, her gaze now shifting to the greenery surrounding them. He knows her question is rhetorical, so he waits for her answer. “Is that I have lost my best friend,” she pauses. “I still see him sitting with me at the dining table, at home or outside, much like how you are sitting right now,” she pauses again, smiling fondly in Joe’s direction, but he knows she’s smiling at memories. “Or watching me teach ballet at the dance academy, making breakfast in the kitchen in the early mornings,” he watches his mom intently as she says all this, and he thinks he could see flashes of more memories catching up in her eyes, and it's almost as if he could see them too; the random waltzing they liked to do in the living room or kitchen, his dad humming showtunes and his mom joining in the middle, his mum always fixing something he was wearing, regardless if it’s a suit or just a simple t-shirt. Mom and dad. Lovers, best friends, the best team ever. 

So he isn’t entirely surprised to see the love she has for him clearly reflected in the light within her eyes. “I catch myself sometimes laughing at the jokes only we would get, only to turn to an empty chair or a vacant space beside me. He was my best friend, in ways that nobody else could be.”

For some reason he feels as if he should apologize, so he does. “I’m sorry mom--”

Virginia shakes her head, “Don’t be, honey. I’m not lonely or sad, not when I have Mary and you and John and my grandchildren. I wake up every day feeling thankful that I have my family and the academy to remind me of the beautiful things we have built and shared together, your Dad and I. What I want to tell you, Joey,” she says, looking at him now, “is that there are best friends, and then there are lovers. And usually they don’t mix. So when you find someone who loves you as much as they understand you like only a best friend could, you don't want to lose this person from your life or give up on them. Ever. You have to promise me that you won’t.”

Joe reaches out to touch her hand on the table. “I promise,” Of course he would. Anything to make her feel better. She has always been the strongest one throughout the course of dad’s illness, even now, after his passing. On top of that, she finds time to worry about her children. Mothers are incredible superhumans. But all he wants is to just put her mind at ease. He’s an adult now, he can take care of himself and he wants to tell her that, but the last time he did, she shut him up by asking, “_Am I not your mother then? _” And he gets it. It’s pointless to tell her to do otherwise. Maybe he isn’t as lucky as John or successful as Mary to have a beautiful family and a stable career, but that’s not what he’s after. He’s been in the film industry all his life, doing what he wants and loves on his own terms. Sure, he’s been in and out of relationships too, just like he’s been in and out of projects to work on. That’s just the kind of life he had chosen for himself. He’s not suffering or complaining. In fact, he’s happy. He likes it that whenever he is in New York, he is now the one taking his mom out on dates and doing double duty of taking care of Laura, his niece, at Granny’s whenever Mary has work out of town. And he has always been the favourite of his grandma and among his aunts too, just like his dad, so co-hosting family lunches and Thanksgiving dinner with his mom and talking to aunt Debbie and Becky for hours on end are some of the things he feels like he has always been doing anyway. 

Virginia is smiling again now so Joe smiles at her too, and it’s all that matters to him right now. His mom, smiling at him. As if on cue, their food arrives at the table. Joe thanks the server, and for the rest of the lunch they only talk about food, the dance academy and other ordinary, inconsequential things. After they are done eating, Virginia brings up his trip to London again.

“So when are you leaving?” she asks.

“Wednesday,” he answers vaguely, and wishes she doesn’t ask for details, because he doesn’t have them, at least not yet.

“Send my love to Ben, would you?” she says, and Joe is relieved. “And tell him this is my absolute favourite scarf now.” she says as she puts it back around her neck.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that,” Joe shakes his head, laughing a little as he does so. He is still a bit stunned by the fact that Ben bought his mom a present, and such a meaningful and delicate one too. Perhaps this deliberate and careful thoughtfulness is just one of those things that made Ben so endearing to him as a friend.

“Honey,” Virginia looks at him now, and there’s a hint of seriousness in her tone and look. Joe hums an affirmative before refocusing his eyes on her. “Remember what I told you?”

“Yes,” he deadpans. If he can’t tell her not to worry about him, then at the very least, he could avoid talking about it altogether. “I will tell Ben that you love the scarf very much--”

“Joseph Francis Mazzello.”

“The third?” he laughs and his mom slaps his hand lightly across the table. 

“That’s not funny, Joey.”

“I’m trying to be your new best friend now.”

“Oh honey.”

“I know, I know. Dad was funnier though. He always had the best jokes.”

“He did,” she agrees. “But that’s not the point.”

“Are you rejecting me?” 

Since Joe doesn’t want to quit it, now it’s Virginia’s turn to give a deadpan answer. “Yes,” she says in an unaffected tone, standing up as she does so. He gets up too, laughing.

“I’m hurt.” He says with a pout.

Virginia decides to ignore him. “And tell Ben I know how difficult it is to live by yourself after being with someone for so long.” 

“Okay, I will. I won’t forget to tell him that.” He’s finding it hard to suppress a grin though, which earns him a pointed look from his mom.

“You two did talk a lot that afternoon huh?” he asks, no longer grinning or laughing, in an attempt to not annoy her even further.

She just shrugs. They’re standing side by side now. “We did, he’s nice to talk to.”’ she says softly, looking at him fondly and fixing his hair a little. 

“That, I agree with.” He smiles. “So, are you ready to go home?”

“Yes Joey, let’s go.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Virginia is the MVP, don't @ me.  
We really love this chapter and her so we hope you love it too! Let us know what you think in the comments, it thrill us to read what you think so far!  
Read you guys soon!


	4. Lost and found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment you've all been waiting for. Or is it?

Ben hates sleeping alone. 

He tries not to think about it a lot because it would make him sleep less but the thought crawls into his mind from time to time, robbing him of the peace and quiet of the night and that ease he has to fall asleep. 

He doesn’t miss sleeping with someone in a sexual way. Well at least not mainly. He also misses that, but it’s not what keeps him awake at night. It’s the empty space next to him in bed. The lack of another body lying next to him. The warmth and company of another person there beside him, weighing on the mattress like him. It all adds to his much-dreaded loneliness. 

It’s early in the morning when he wakes up and these thoughts are invading his mind and he hates it because he’s not the biggest fan of early mornings unless he has to work or work out. And he wasn’t going to do any of those things so finding himself awake so early with those thoughts by himself is simply awful. He tells his brain to shut the fuck up but it pays him no mind and it wanders all the same while he twists and turns trying to put himself back to sleep to no avail. 

He tries to calm his thoughts with happier ones. Joe will be arriving the following day and he still has things to do before he gets here. A little shopping and some tidying up. Making reservations to places he wants to take him and buying tickets to a game because Joe needs to watch a proper football game. He had asked Andy where would be the best place to go for afternoon high tea, and was given a few suggestions, the irony being that he, the Brit, isn’t particularly crazy about tea in general, to begin with. In return he promised to invite Andy out with them one day because he hasn’t met his new boyfriend, Joe, yet, Andy joked. And lucky for Ben they were on the phone when this conversation happened because he visibly shifted anxiously at the word. 

Should he tell Andy about his feelings for Joe and how confused he is? Has Andy noticed? In any case, Ben decides on laughing it off and promises he will take both his boyfriends out so no one gets jealous. Also he reckons that if he told Andy before them meeting, he would be a little mortified when they finally do, Andy and Joe. That, and he’s also absolutely sure Andy would tease him endlessly throughout the night and make inappropriate jokes and comments and he really isn’t up for that right now. 

What is there to tell anyway? Ben can’t help but wonder. That they had the stupid idea of taking a slightly romantic boat trip together and confused the fuck out of himself in the process? Catalina was their farewell before Ben had to go back to London and they had to go and make it grand and now here he is, waiting for Joe to come save him from his loneliness. He thinks that’s utter bullshit, making Joe do that, make him come visit him without Ben being 100% honest to why he’s sad and why he misses him so badly.

Half truths won’t do for long, Ben thinks, as he drags himself out of bed and around the house, his thoughts accompanying him along the way as he readies himself for a shower before everything else he has to do. So, okay, he made Joe come all the way here. What was it for? Surely he’s not going to feel any better when he leaves in a week’s time. He’ll have a week worth of new memories with him, and then what? There will be no end to his brooding because what comes after that is the reality that he’ll have to keep on living without Joe here once he leaves. 

So what is Ben to do? 

“Nothing.” 

He tells his blurry reflection in the steam-covered mirror of his bathroom with a deep sigh. “You should do nothing.” 

The only thing he’s sure he should do is stop being a whimpering child around Joe. The red-head is a grown man and so is he. And as much as he wants to be around Joe all the time, he has to start facing the reality that they do have separate lives in separate countries and if he doesn’t stop being childish, Ben could lose Joe’s friendship forever and that’s the last thing he wants. 

With that last thought, he leaves his house with a list of chores on his phone and gets started on his last lonely day, before Joe gets here and makes everything a little bit brighter and happier.

******

It’s hard for Ben to conceal his excitement, and he must have had the same wide, goofy smile plastered on his face the moment he saw Joe walking through the arrival gate and throughout the 45-minute car ride back to Hornchurch blasting the entirety of _A Day at The Races_\--Joe’s favorite Queen album that he put on specifically because of that--until they’re finally here, in front of the door of Ben’s home. It must have caught on, because he can see it mirrored on Joe’s lips as well, as he walks him in. He couldn’t help but wonder if Joe feels the same steady rush of happiness as he does, it’s like an endless stream that at times feels like it might overwhelm him. When he gave Joe the warmest hug at the airport earlier, he almost didn’t want to let go. And when they finally did break apart from the hug, his hand lingered for a little while more on Joe’s back, not wanting to completely let go of the older man just yet. He just couldn’t help it.

“Welcome home?” he says, standing in the middle of his own living room as if it’s a gallery and he is the owner, watching Joe as he looks around, eyes landing on the large abstract painting above the sofa, a guitar resting on the armchair next to it, his drum kit in the corner of the room and the framed record cover of the four of them on the wall beside it. There’s a book and a copy of a script lying haphazardly on the coffee table, a camera sitting beside it, and a mug of coffee that Ben had emptied before going to the airport. Ben thinks he could see Joe’s eyes twitch a little at the mess.

“Not bad, Jones. I’m impressed.” 

“I try my best.” Ben shrugs, playing it cool. He’s trying, and trying very hard. It’s better than breaking into another stupid grin like a school boy being complimented on by his crush. But that’s kind of what this is, actually, isn’t it? “Oh, before anything.” He doesn’t want to dwell on it though, not right now, so he changes the topic as he takes out his phone from his jean pocket. “Gwilym hates us.” He presses play and it’s Gwil’s voice playing on the loudspeaker.

_“I can’t believe you two, bastards, planning this while I’m doing press in Australia! This isn’t fair play for Ben’s love, Mazzello. - pause - In all seriousness, you kids have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn't. And Arsenal is a shit team, don’t believe Ben’s lies!”_

Gwil had sent this sometime before he went to pick Joe up at the airport after Ben told him what he was up to today. It gets them both breaking into loud laughter, Joe especially. They spent the next few minutes coming up with the best reply, and finally settling on Joe telling Gwil he has arrived with Ben’s voice in the background defending Arsenal. They shouted a deliberately cheesy-sounding _“we love you, Gwilym!”_ in unison at the end before ending the recording and sending it to Gwil. 

“Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get you settled.” Ben says, putting his phone away. Joe nods, still grinning from the ridiculous message they just sent. “You’re having my room since I don’t really have a guest room set up. So I thought I’d sleep out here. The couch pulls out.” 

“What? No way.” Joe disagrees instantly and it catches Ben by surprise. He blinks a few times.

“It’s not a problem. Really.”

“Ben,” Joe laughs a little. “Are you even serious?”

He could see the disbelief in Joe’s eyes, squinting and staring at him, and he does the only thing he could, which is to shrug it off.

“Well I just want you to be comfortable--”

“And how does me being comfortable means kicking you out of your own room?”

“--since you’re a guest and all,” he finishes.

There’s a pause before Joe asks a-matter-of-factly, “So, should I check into a hotel instead?”

“What? No! That’s ridiculous! And it kind of defeats the purpose of us spending time together.”

“Great, so why don’t we share your room then?” Joe’s reply is too swift. _Oh no. There’s no way out of this, is there?_

“I thought--I don’t know,” he says without looking at Joe, “but it’s like I said, I just want you to be comfortable.” He knows he’s going to lose this not-an-argument soon. Well, he tried. He really tried. “It really is not a problem, Joe. I rather like sleeping on my couch.” Ben gives it a last shot, no matter how feeble. He needs to, because this is a terrible idea, them sharing his bedroom. _A really, really terrible idea. _

“Oh, come on, don’t be ridiculous. Why wouldn’t I be comfortable sharing your room with you anyway? It’s not like we’ve never shared a bed before.”

And the most terrible thing of all is that Joe is right. How is this different than the many times they’ve shared a room and even a bed before? How is this different than waking up to a very sleepy, heavy-lidded eyed, sleep-tousled haired Joe who tells him he hates him because 9am is too early in the morning to wake up?

“Are you sure?” He asks and knows it’s pretty much useless now.

“Of course, don’t be silly.”

“What if I kick you off the bed at night?”

“You?" Joe snorts. "You're barely even capable of moving in your near-comatose sleep at night.”

“I’m just saying.”

“I’m just saying, we’re sharing your room or I’m checking into a hotel.”

“Are you blackmailing me, Mazzello?”

“Yes I pretty much am, Jones.”

Ben fakes a dramatic sigh. “Alright, alright,” he puts up his hands in a display of conceding defeat and leads the way taking Joe’s suitcase and pulling it out of the living room, through a corridor and then into the bedroom as Joe follows closely behind. Now that he’s defeated, and faced with the impending reality of sharing his bed with Joe every night for a week, he has to calm down. He needs to. He wasn’t expecting this turn of events and he doesn’t know what this is going to do to these feelings he’s trying to push away. Still, he tries his best not to focus on it right now and follows through with whatever he has planned for the older man.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m thinking. Cuppa tea while you unpack? I made some room in my closet if you want to use it. I know it’s just one week but… dunno, thought it would be better? And you can take a shower if you want. Those are fresh towels for you to use.” He points to the pile at the bottom of the bed. “I’ll make us some lunch and then you can take a nap? You must be knackered. When you get up we can go out for some proper dinner.” When he turns around to look at Joe, he sees the older guy stifling a laughter behind him.

“Did you leave a mint or a chocolate under my pillow? Do I have to tip you?” Joe asks cheekily. “Come to think of it, where’s my red carpet?” Ben rolls his eyes and Joe laughs. 

“Hey, buddy,” Joe says, and Ben wants to choke on nothing when he hears it. _Buddy. Bloody hell. Does he really need to say that, now?_

“You don’t have to do all this, you know that, right? Just like you didn’t have to give my mom that scarf,” he says. Joe is looking right into his eyes now, and he’s suddenly a little lost. _Scarf? What scarf?_ Oh, that _scarf._

Ben shrugs, "Oh, it was nothing," he says noncommittally, almost inaudible, even.

"Well, that nothing is my mom's most favourite scarf now, she wanted me to tell you that."

"Really?" The instant smile gave him away. Really? He couldn't possibly play it cool at this point. He remembers walking along the streets of Florence when he saw the scarf in the glass display of one of the local boutiques there, not in the main part of the city, but the downtown area, where a lot of the businesses are small and local. The owner was a middle aged man who told him his wife hand-painted everything he is selling in their boutique. _She's an artist_, he tells Ben with a lot of love and pride in his eyes. If he had thought of Joe’s mom, Virginia, when his eyes first landed on the turquoise scarf with the hummingbird motif, by then he was sure he would buy it. _Present for a special girl?_ the man had asked in a heavily accented English as he was wrapping up the scarf in a box, tying it up with a length of fabric ribbon. Ben quickly answered no, and almost immediately wondered why he said so. Now he has to tell this kind man who is he buying the scarf for, and he absolutely has no idea how. _Buying this for a friend_, he replied. _For his mum._ Is that strange? He wanted to ask, but didn't. And the man nodded, still smiling, and thanked him for his purchase. _You're a good friend_, he said, and Ben smiled. As he exited the shop and started walking on the cobblestone pavement again, he’s suddenly hit with the realization that he didn’t even know when or how would he ever be able to give this little gift to Virginia.

“Really. I didn’t even know about it until a few days ago. We went out, and she was wearing the scarf and couldn’t stop talking about it.” Joe is still looking at him, and he knows the older man could see his smile getting wider and brighter, but he simply just couldn’t help it. The opportunity to give her the scarf seemed to present itself sometime later, when he found himself staying at Joe’s in LA for a couple of months because of work, and the sudden plan to go to the Mazzello family lunch happened. “Well I thought of giving it to you in LA before I left for London at the end of my stay, to give it to her whenever. But--"

"--we went to New York for that family lunch." Joe finishes for him. 

"Yeah," Ben chuckles. "I'm glad she liked it." 

"She loves it." Joe says. "And thank you," he says, quieter this time, looking straight into Ben's eyes and he has to look away this time, because there's warmth creeping in on his cheeks right now and he's definitely not blushing and screwing up all the playing it cool act he has been trying to keep up so far.

"It’s nothing, really,” he half-mumbles, shrugging the topic off. “So, tea?” he asks, looking at Joe and smiling while making a show to exit the room.

Joe is still looking at him, his eyes warm and bright, just like his smile. Ben finds himself staring, so instead he clears his throat. 

“Tea sounds great,” he then says in the same quiet tone. Almost immediately, he starts busying himself with his luggage. “I’m here so that you’ll feel better and calmer. It’s just me. I’m not a stranger or a guest that you have to do things for, you know?” 

Ben smirks, looking down at his shoes. Joe is right in more ways than he knows. He needs to _calm the fuck down_. So, he shakes his head and looks back up with a smile. “You’re right. I’ll put on the kettle. You settle down. And then we’ll see?” 

“Sounds a lot better.” Joe slips into his Deaky accent and Ben laughs. 

“Alright _Deaky_\--” he pauses, _“we need to get experimental.”_ He’s imitating Gwilym’s voice this time and Joe cracks up. “Sorry, I was going to make tea,” he says a little apologetically for getting distracted as he makes his way to the bedroom’s door. He could _feel_ Joe rolling his eyes and shaking his head at his apology. 

“I guess as long as you don’t throw the coffee machine, we’ll be fine.” The older man answers and Ben leaves the room loudly laughing at that that he’s sure Joe can still hear him from his room. 

***

When Joe comes out of the shower, Ben is finishing getting their quick lunch ready. A couple of simple, classic club sandwiches with a side salad that he puts down on the dining table right outside the kitchen when Joe approaches him. The entire time he was preparing the meal, he was forcing himself to ignore the little voice in his head that was going into panic mode. They’ve been here before, they’ve done this before and Ben knows how to be Joe’s friend, he didn’t forget that in light of his recently discovered feelings so he’s going to be exactly that, Joe’s friend. Nothing more. Whatever else he could possibly be feeling, he’ll deal with it once Joe is gone and back home and he’s left alone again. Something he can’t focus on right now either. 

“So, I really mean it when I say I like what you did with your place. Wherever this sudden change of mood and motivation came from, I'm glad it did.” Joe says, as he approaches the table, his hair slightly wet and vaguely smelling like Ben which does very little for his cool facade, but he pulls through miraculously, while he finishes setting the table up. Joe, then sits down on the round table where his plate is set. 

“Having a guest sort of lit a fire under my ass. I had to get the house in shape, you know?” He comments as he takes his own place at the table next to him.

“Right.” Joe chuckles before taking the first bite out of his sandwich. After he swallows, he continues. “You should have regular guests coming over then, maybe, if it helps.”

“Oh, I don’t know. How regularly do you think you can sneak away from New York to come here?” 

Ben asks cheekly and to that, Joe laughs wholeheartedly and he has to hide his stupid smile behind a bite of his own food. 

“I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll check my schedule, and I'll also need to score another big movie deal so I can afford the jet-setting lifestyle. How committed do you want me to be?”

Ben shrugs and apparently his brain decides this is a good time as any to flirt with Joe a little, so much for keeping it all in the friendship realm. But the truth is, that’s part of their friendship too after all. 

“Well, as much as I deserve which I think is a lot because, let’s be honest, I’m a catch.” He says and adds a wink for good measure. 

“M-hmm.” Joe nods and swallows his recent bite, covering his mouth as he does, before speaking again. “A very expensive one too. I don't normally do this but what can I say, you're worth it.” Ben only side-smiles at that but doesn’t say anything, just continues eating, so there’s a pause but is quickly filled as Joe continues, not the biggest fan of silences as he is and Ben is glad. That’s one of the things he likes about him after all. “But you've been smiling a lot since I saw you at the airport. I take that as a good sign?” 

“umm… Yeah, yeah. Maybe I needed some company. Or, the right kind of company.” Ben sighs, he hesitates for a moment, then asks. “I don't know. Don't you think I'm being too sentimental?”

“Sentimental? About what?” 

“About feeling lonely now here in London.”

“People get lonely, Ben.” Joe simply shrugs. “If that’s being sentimental then so be it. I see nothing wrong in that. Besides--” he puts an elbow on the table and his cheek on his closed fist. He smiles lazily. “That’s why you have me.”

The blond shakes his head but smiles nonetheless. “To be honest, I kind of wish I could actually have you here all the time. I got too used to having you around, you know?” He says without much thought, and immediately regrets it. _Or does he?_ Isn’t he at least allowed to say some things honestly, like the way he really feels about them, sometimes? 

“I’m still struggling here too, honestly.” Joe replies and Ben is actually glad to hear that at least he’s not alone in that. “Isn’t that insane, though? I mean, we actors do this all the time, we meet, get together to film something, and then we go our separate ways. But this time around it’s--different. Maybe all the group bonding exercises Polly made us go through were too effective?” He laughs, visibly having some sort of recollection as he looks away for a second, then back to Ben, squinting a little at him. “Do you remember the one where we had to hug each other for two minutes then switch partner?”

“I distinctly remember dozing off from time to time in those.” is Ben’s answer but in reality that’s not all he remembers. He also remembers Joe saying stupid things into his ear to make him laugh sometimes. And other times there would be these accidental touches, the kind that felt like brushes of the hand or temporary warmth of Joe’s palm rubbing his back gently. Joe must not have even realized he was making them, and it would have easily gone unnoticed by everyone else. But there is no way that Ben would have forgotten how they felt, he probably even feels them still, right now, as they’re reminiscing. Everything so impossibly intimate, as it was supposed to be, after all. That was the point of the exercise. For them to bond and connect as a team and work together with clockwork precision so Live Aid goes smoothly and perfectly. _It was supposed to be just that. _

“Only from time to time?" Joe quirks an eyebrow at him. "After the first time I told you you could, you did it all the time. I felt used.” Joe fakes offense and Ben pretends to be unfazed and shrugs, going along with their classic banter. 

“What can I say? You make a comfy pillow.”

“Now that’s a lie.” Joe says with a straight face and points at him with a finger from the hand that’s holding his sandwich. “You haven’t actually tried sleeping with me as your pillow.”

“We have a week’s worth of time.” Ben challenges because, apparently, he’s feeling brave and not even thinking before talking. This is him just being himself around Joe, and he’s glad he can still do that at least. 

“Ha. You wish. I think I’ll make you my pillow this time.” Joe laughs louder, because, of course he has to have the last word on the matter. Ben just eye-rolls him. “Okay, okay, but seriously though, how fast and easily we clicked, and now we’re struggling to let go, is a little bit crazy--unusual even, don’t you think?” Ben doesn’t answer, he knows the question is rhetorical but he can’t help but wonder if Joe is talking about just the two of them. “Because the friendship is one thing, but it’s so hard to shake _you guys_ off my life. I keep wanting to wake up and go on set so I can see everyone’s stupid face?” 

_Me too_, Ben wants to say. Except maybe that he just want to see one stupid face in particular. But of course Joe wasn’t talking about just the two of them. After all they have developed such closeness with almost everyone on set. Still, it doesn’t make it sting less to know that Joe _wasn’t talking about just the two of them. _

“Like, what is this unhealthy attachment I’ve developed?” Joe continues. “Why do I miss you guys so much? Is this a break up I’m unwilling to go through? Like, what is this, really?" 

“Don’t look at me for answers there mate.” Ben puts his palms up in a sign of surrender. “I had you fly here three days after we spent two months together.” his own guilt stings him as he says so. 

“I figured at least I’m not the only one. Which would be a hundred times more tragic.” 

“Well, you’re definitely not alone there.” Ben nods and adds. “But I’m going to have press tour for Six Underground in a couple of months back in the States. You could come keep me company if you’re not working on your next movie, big shot director.”

“Actually, I’m taking that as a promise, nothing less. I’ll never forgive you if you ever pull a Rami on me.” Joe says and Ben senses it’s only half jokingly. He then changes his tone for a more serious one, hardly making eye contact. “I really need either my next feature or the TV pilot to get off the ground. For the obvious reasons, of course, but also because then I’ll really be blindly busy I wouldn’t even have time to think about anything else.” 

Ben observes Joe for a moment as he’s not looking back at him. Is this worry that he’s sensing coming from Joe?

“I’m sure it’ll happen soon, Joe” He reassures him in all honesty because there’s probably no one who Ben believes in more than Joe right now. But he also has to suppress a sudden urge to hold Joe’s hand in his. It wouldn’t be strange for Joe if he did but he’s not sure what it’ll do to himself and what will Joe see in his eyes when he looks back at him. So he decides against it. Instead, he continues “With our luck, it might happen right after I’m done being busy and I won’t be able to whisk you away whenever I want.” Ben is a little surprised at the confidence with which he just said that, as if it was the most natural thing for two friends to want to be in each other’s company this much. 

“But that could be a good thing actually. Then you could come on set and keep _me_ company!” 

“Oh mate, it’s good to know you’re as hopeless as I am. But I absolutely would.” Ben shakes his head and cleans his mouth with one of the paper napkins he set up earlier. “We should go out, what do you think? Stop brooding so much. You came here to have fun and I’m putting you in my awful mood.”

Joe exhales and laughs. “Let’s. I’m here fully intending to play tourist.” He gives Ben the biggest grin. 

“Let’s do it then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys finally reunite but... is Ben **not** going to tell Joe about his feelings? :o  
What do you guys think? And what about ALL. THAT. FLIRTING.??  
Let us know what you thought of this chapter, please! We want to hear from you guys and what you think will happen next!


	5. If I gave you my heart, would you run away with it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's loving Joe Mazzello hours in the household so buckle up, fam.

The last couple of days have been long and exhausting but filled with great moments, delicious food and drinks and better company and conversation while Ben roams the city of London with Joe, - almost - without a care in his mind and trying not to think about it coming to an end soon. They spend very little time at Ben’s house, mostly either sleeping in after late nights and having even later breakfasts that end up being basically lunches and soon enough they are out the door again. 

Ben tries not to show it but he’s too happy and Joe is complaisant to each and every one of his whims so he drags him through all his favorite places and they do all his favorite things. Joe is game for it all, but he also makes a point to take him to things Joe would especially enjoy. Like that morning Ben insisted they get up a little earlier than they usually did because he has a certain place in mind for lunch. That certain place turns out to be the scenic Hyde Park, right in the heart of London, right across Buckingham Palace and outside Kensington. _ Isn’t it ironic, _ Joe had said to him, _ that New York’s Hyde Park is the only Hyde Park that isn’t named after this one? _ Ben quickly agrees, despite being unaware of the fact himself actually. 

To say the park is big or simply a park, would be an understatement. The vast and lush green, the lake and fountains all seem to go on forever, it’s almost as if they were no longer in the middle of a big city. After spending part of the morning walking around the beautiful gardens, visiting Princes Diana memorial and strolling through the side of the Serpentine lake that divides the park, they end up having lunch at the Serpentine Bar’s outside area, looking out towards the lake. 

Ben also takes Joe to visit the Arsenal Football Museum right outside the Emirates Stadium and gets a little over excited talking about the club’s history and how this stadium has been Arsenal’s home only since the 00s among other little facts about his favorite players. Joe, being the sport nuts that he is, matches Ben excitement about the team and even asks further questions. 

After days full of walking around, when they come back home to Ben’s every night, he sends Joe to sleep with a warm cup of tea in bed as they chat each other into slumber. 

Except for the very few times he’s caught himself staring, maybe a little too lovingly, at Joe, Ben thinks he’s doing fine and he’s been successful in not dwelling in his feelings. They are too busy during the day and too tired during the night for him to check on himself and he prefers it that way. He’ll deal with that once Joe’s gone. 

Or that was his initial plan.

He feels restless tonight, even though every bone in his body is tired and tense and want him to just sleep. Close his eyes, shut his mind, let tomorrow be the next thing he knows and just another day. Relax. But for some reason, he can’t. His brain refuses to. And Joe is talking to him about music now, sitting up on the bed with his legs crossed. Ben on the other hand is already lying down on his side, facing Joe, already tucked in, both hands between his cheek and the pillow underneath him. Ben chuckles very softly when Joe says he was an angsty teenager because he can see that. He then asks if Ben knows this alt rock band he used to listen to a lot and is still one of his favorites. _ Just from your t-shirt _, is what Ben replies with his eyes shut but opens them after there’s a prolonged silence and finds Joe looking at him.

“What?” He asks, frowning. 

“Nothing-- you notice and remember the weirdest shit.” 

They both chuckle at that and Ben closes his eyes again and says, “True.”

“I’ll make you listen to them one of these days, I think you’ll like them. You were an angsty teen too.”

“Who says I’m not a little angsty still?” he mumbles, eyes still closed.

“Right.” Joe chuckles once again. “You’ll love them then.” 

Ben just nods and after a few seconds of silence, he hears Joe sigh. “Well, I’m gonna go use the bathroom for a bit and then go to the kitchen to get some water. Want anything?”

“No, thanks” he says.

Joe slips out of the bed and out of the room and Ben opens his eyes briefly. He turns to lie down on his back and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He finds himself blinking to the ceiling and shaking his head as if to shake off the tension behind his eyes. _ It’s just him--just Joe _, is a mantra that he has been repeating to himself each and every night since the older man got here. Then he closes his eyes shut, turns to his side again and feels himself relax finally in the silence of the room and sleep catches him unaware shortly after. 

So that’s why when he suddenly finds himself awake, he thought that he had just maybe closed his eyes for a minute or two. But the room is completely dark now, and he blinks to adjust his eyes to the dimness and shadow. And it took him half a second to realize that Joe is lying down on his side, face literally inches from his own, set deep in sleep and dimly lit by the light filtering from the bedroom window. His heart lurches right into his gut, and he lets out an involuntary but silent gasp.

He isn't a light sleeper, not in the slightest. He rarely wakes up in the middle of the night and usually sleeps through his nights like a log. But it's just impossible to shut down completely and sleep as he usually does with Joe around, with him, in his bed, not when his senses are hyper aware like this. They're so close now. It makes him inhale sharply when he thinks about how they might have touched anywhere and at any time during the night. It's not even like this is something new, they have cuddled before and Ben has sat and lied down on Joe’s lap, but this awareness is driving him slightly mad at times because even if he’s trying not to, he’s now also conscious of his feelings towards Joe. Ben shuts his eyes tight, and he can hear his own heart beating so ridiculously loud in his ears. When he opens them again it seems that the distance between his nose and Joe's isn't even an inch, and in the dimness of the bedroom, their breaths mingle, and he can feel heat radiating from Joe's sleeping figure. He starts to wonder how close the rest of their bodies are, but he's too afraid to look, let alone move. He blinks a few times and swallows the lump that has just formed in his throat.

He wants to get away but mostly he doesn’t want Joe to wake up and see the look on his face right now. It's a mixture of pain, adoration and longing. Joe would see right through that. And right then and there, it hits him like a truck coming out of nowhere. He is, in fact, undeniably, incorrigibly and unmistakably in love with Joe. 

_ Shit. _

Ben thinks as he stares at the sleeping man for a little while longer. 

Falling in love with your best mate, what a beautiful concept. Except, in this case, it’s a fucking nightmare that only complicates his life unnecessarily. But it’s a fact, one he can’t overlook anymore. This is the moment the veil of friendship lifts and he realizes he just can’t keep lying to himself or look the other way. Or tell himself that what he feels is just loneliness and that he misses Joe because _ he got used to having him around _. That’s simply not true, or not entirely true at least and not the first time he’s felt like this about him either. Ben was in Italy working when he started feeling like this and he blamed it all in the bonding of the movie, much like he was doing up until today, both of them were. He remembers going back to London for Bohemian Rhapsody’s Premier at Wembley and the first time they all got together again was at the lighting of Carnaby Street, the event that kickstarted all the promotion they were going to do. He wasn’t even going to be there for most of it but he was there for this, everyone was, even Queen. And for some reason he found himself always next to Joe, or turning to him whenever anything happened and smiling like a maniac. It didn't seem weird, everyone was in a similar state of euphoria. Then the same happened a couple of months later during award season. And they would sneak out of fancy parties to buy snacks and film stupid videos or take selfies. 

Now Joe’s here, in his bed and Ben knows that it wasn’t loneliness what he was feeling when Joe called that noon, it was dread. He was forced to face the reality of not having Joe’s constant presence in his life. There wasn’t going to be an event, no more work. Joe didn’t _ have to _ see him. He wasn’t just missing his friend, it was a lot more than that. _ He feels a lot more than that. _ And how can anyone possibly not fall in love with this man anyway? When they first met, it took him five minutes to approve of his new co-star, another five minutes to take a liking to him, and the next five minutes were spent just laughing because he is funny and fun to be around and by the time the first ‘band meeting’ was done for the day, he was looking forward to see Joe again the next day. And the rest of their relationship from that point on feels like a natural progression from the initial admiration he had for him until _ this _, right now. How's the entire world not in love with Joe Mazzello by now? But Ben knows the world is, in fact, in love with Joe and so is he. And it was about time he finally admits it and stops lying to himself. 

Not only that, but Joe has become so instrumental in his life that he can’t imagine him not being in it. He doesn’t want to either.

So what is he going to do now? 

_ Tell him. _

No, absolutely not. 

_ It’s Joe, you can tell him anything. _

Not this. 

But he knows all too well he’ll have to do it. If he wants to keep this friendship healthy he’ll have to be honest and come clean because, otherwise, if he doesn’t, it’s going to rot inside of him, pester like a parasite and not only will it eat him up inside, it will eat them both. He knows himself. He knows he’s not the best at compartmentalizing his feelings, he’ll mix it all up. 

There’s also the chance that Joe might feel the same way. After all, he did come here all the way from New York on such short notice and for no other reason than seeing him, just because he said he was lonely. And for the past several days he has been doing nothing but everything and anything Ben wanted to do, going wherever he dragged him to. Come to think of it, Joe didn’t have to do any of this, didn’t need to come to London, just because he was having a whim. Just like how he didn’t have to buy that scarf for Virginia in Italy or go out of his way to make sure every single thing in his house was ready for Joe’s arrival and stay. He didn’t need to be thinking about anything or everything about or related to Joe all the time. Except that he did, because--he’s in love. So what’s Joe’s excuse, then? _ Is he allowed to have some hope? _ He wonders, and his breathing is becoming suddenly erratic as his eyes trails down to Joe’s parted lips that let out warm puffs of air on his own face and _ if he would just... _

Ben can’t breathe and it doesn’t matter that it’s 6am and it wasn’t more than three hours ago that he fell asleep and the sun hasn’t even set yet. He needs to breathe. He rolls away from Joe as carefully as he can so he doesn’t wake him up and grabs his phone from the night table to light his way as he roams for a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt and his trainers. He’s going to sweat his feelings away with a run. 

  


It’s two hours later when Ben comes back home, feeling better or at least more relaxed after a good run and some shopping he did on his way back from the park that he leaves in his kitchen counter before he goes back inside his bedroom as silently as he can, toeing away his shoes and peeling away his sticky and sweaty t-shirt. 

“Hey…” Joe is looking at him from the bed, one of his hands under the pillow which props his head a little. He looks very much half asleep still, hair tousled and face half-buried in the pillow. 

“Hey, sorry mate. Did I wake you?” Ben throws a quick glance at Joe as he is heading to his closet to find something to wear for the day and a fresh towel to get ready for a shower. He had to make a conscious effort not to turn around to steal another glance.

“No. Been awake for a while. Where did you go? It’s so early.” 

“Went for a run. It’s nice when the park is empty this early.” He gets everything he needs from the closet so he turns around now, and trains what he thinks as his most neutral eye-gaze on Joe. The older man has turned to lie on his back, and due to all the shifting he made, has successfully look even more tousled from sleep, 

“That’s some commitment.” 

“Someone has to burn all that alcohol and shit food we’ve been having these past couple of days, mate.” 

“Are you fat-shaming me, Benjamin?” 

“Never. I got you scones for breakfast. Let me jump into the shower real quick?”

“You spoil me.”

“You can still go to a hotel if you don’t like it.” 

Ben shrugs and as an answer he gets a cushion thrown towards his way that he manages to catch while he laughs and throws it back to the bed.

“Don’t be a smart ass.” 

Joe tells him and Ben just smiles at him before leaving the room. He’s smiles like he’s fine. Like he doesn’t want time to just stop here so he can keep staring at the sleepy Joe on his bed. Like he doesn’t want that to happen everyday and not just this week. He smiles like he can keep pretending he can be just his friend. But in reality, he feels like a missile guided at full speed towards Joe and he doesn’t want to think about what will happen when it finally crashes.   
_ He’s so screwed. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well. How are we feeling after that rollercoaster of emotions?  
Please let us know in the comments! We love to hear from you.


	6. The light in your eyes light up the sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fun one!!  
Here we introduce a new character that I, personally LOVED writing. Hope no one gets offended with this one. Remember, this is a work of fiction and all that, okay?

“I really didn’t think you were serious when you said you were taking me to an arcade?” Joe tells him as Ben guides him inside the place. The blonde starts walking backwards, facing him and he can spot both a frown and a smile on Joe’s face as he says this and looks around. 

The place looks exactly like any other arcade, it still retains its retro looks, full of games they both know well since they were a lot younger. Ben loves coming here with his mates from time to time to enjoy mindless shooting at things on a screen, alternating between laughing loudly and shouting obscene insults to each other before going drinking at the pub nearby, all excited like a bunch of teenagers. And he absolutely wants Joe to experience this with him too but now, suddenly, he isn't too sure anymore. 

“Why not? Would you like to do something different?” 

“No way, I love this. Haven't been to one in a while. Just that we’ve been doing mostly touristy things, I thought that was the pattern.”

“Would you rather do that?”

“I would rather do anything you want to do.” There's no pause to his answer, just Joe saying it nonchalantly as he makes his way around the place, looking at the different machines instead of the younger man.

And Ben is glad as he nods and bites the inside of his cheek, stopping short from beaming with a full-faced smile at Joe's words because he feels like he's suddenly fifteen again, and instead of a girl, there's this boy--red-haired, hazel eyes, and older than him, walking around the arcade checking out games that they could play together with--that he's crushing so hard on. _ Are you blushing like a schoolboy, Benjamin? _ He hears a voice mocking him in his head as he turns aside to not actually stare at Joe, and takes that opportunity to also steady his heartbeat. Joe can’t go about saying things like that to him, really, the man is not helping Ben at all to keep his feelings at bay. He does feel a little giddy--no, make that _ a lot _\--like a schoolboy taking his first crush on a date and tries to do everything subtly, innocently even, like any good English schoolboy would. 

“I’m thinking…” Ben begins talking again as he waits for Joe to take a few steps to catch up and walk beside him. “Grab some candy while I charge the card?” He reaches for his wallet and shows Joe he actually owns one of those magnetic cards that arcades now use instead of coins. 

“Sounds good.” Joe nods in agreement and looks around them. “What do you want?” 

“Umm… just whatever is fine.” Ben shrugs. 

“I’m going to need you to be more specific than that buddy.” A chuckle comes out of Joe's lips as he says this and shakes his head. 

“I think they have toffee apples here, maybe one of those?”

“I’m guessing that’s the same as candy apple? Got it.” 

Joe steps away from Ben and he watches him go to the little candy cart a few steps away from the ticket office where he heads next. A few minutes later, they meet up again, Joe with his toffee apple and a bag of popcorn, ready for some arcade gaming.

They try every kind of game, specially the ones that requires two players and they stay for longer in those that have them compete against each other, either racing cars or shooting at stuff and they don’t even notice when they start raising their voices and shouting either at the game or at one another. After a few rounds of games and laughing until their faces and stomachs ache, they stroll around another part of the Arcade that has other types of games, not the violent kind they've been playing for the last couple of hours and definitely not ones to play in pairs. They’re barely talking and they walk lazily and very closely, bumping their shoulders from time to time and Ben has to stop himself from closing the little space that separates their hands and hold Joe's into his, lace their fingers together. But Joe's voice gets him out of his mind suddenly. 

“Hey look,” Joe stops dead in his tracks and stretches an arm out in front of Ben, effectively pausing the younger man mid-step.

“A photobooth,” he grins. 

Their eyes scan the walls covered in black and white photos, and even before Ben could say anything, without so much of a question or preamble, Joe grabs him by his wrist and pulls him into the cramped rectangular space, and closes the dark green curtain beside them. 

“This is so cool; 70s punk stylings, black and white photos. Perfect.” Joe whistles while Ben looks on, amused. They're sitting so closely pressed next to each other on the small bench in the booth that Ben thinks not only he could hear Joe, but also feel his words coming out tangled with his warm breath. 

“You love photobooths?”

“You think?” Joe looks and sounds suitably excited, and it gets Ben into some kind of silly mood too. Perhaps it was the cramped space, or the rush from killing all the zombies with Joe earlier, but when the camera starts snapping photos, they went for it, contorting their faces into every possible manifestation of silliness for the first two shots. 

“Okay, switch it up!” Joe says and they immediately lean their faces close to each other, and when they bumped their cheeks a little hard and unexpectedly, both start giggling like silly schoolboys. That made the third shot. And for the fourth shot, they try leaning closer again, smiling and more carefully this time so they don’t bump into each other again. Right before the camera clicks, Ben turns to look at Joe, smiling. That's their last and final shot. 

Joe must have realized him looking, because he is turning to face Ben now, and they must be only merely an inch apart from each other, their noses almost touching. Ben’s eyes are looking right into Joe's hazel ones and he thinks about how they are so still and calm. If they were liquid pools, god knows how deep they’d go, and if anything were to fall into them, would it ever be able to come back up again? Ben feels like he's standing at their edge, and all his nerves are shot. Isn’t it strange, his thoughts? They keep telling him that if only he would jump, if he would go for it, he'd close the distance between his and Joe's lips. He's aware that he's staring. This isn't the first time. Won’t be the last too. He doesn’t know if Joe knows, but the older man never mentions it so he lies to himself about it every time. 

Joe licks his lower lip with the tip of his tongue before smacking his lips together. Ben knows this is a habit, but still it doesn’t change the fact that it makes his heart race faster, without fail, each time. He used to think he was crazy for even thinking this, but he has now completely given himself up to the thought. _ I am crazy _ , he thinks. _ So absolutely bloody crazy about this man _.

“Alright,” Joe smiles and Ben feels like his heart is about to stop, or drop, or both. “Let's go get the prints.” 

He has never hated a photobooth this much in his life before, but nods anyway and lets himself be led out of the booth. 

  
  


******

They must have spent a good couple of hours at the arcade, playing almost every game including the classic pinball, _ because Queen _, they had said almost in unison. After pinball they got back to killing some more zombies, and finally it was Super Mario that did it; Ben had won enough games and rounds to be crowned the winner of the night, and Joe is buying dinner and drinks tonight.

“All I’m saying is, I’m beating your ass the next time we come back here, Jones.”

Ben laughs heartily. “That’s the spirit, Mazzello.” They’re making their way to The Falting, a pub near Ben’s house where they meet with Andy, ‘allegedly’, as Joe says, Ben's best friend. The three of them get a booth away from the crowded area of the place where Ben and Joe sit next to each other and have a pint of beer each. In front of them sits Andy, with a pint of his own. They’re sharing, according to Joe, the largest serving of fries (or _ chips _) and fried fish he’s ever seen at which the two English men simply shrugged, seemingly finding the ridiculous amount of food, just normal. 

Two minutes into the conversation, Andy already has Joe roaring with laughter. From then on it’s just like watching two good friends crack joke after joke and come up with witty remarks and comebacks. He is, indeed, very different from Ben. He’s louder and talks a lot faster and has a fun anecdote under his sleeve at every turn of the conversation. Joe seems to be enjoying himself, which causes Ben to smile into his pint, maybe too much. 

“And that’s the most awkward I’ve ever seen Ben…” Andy is finishing telling Joe the story of how they met Snoop Dog a couple of years back on a road trip throughout the US West Coast while watching _ American _ football games together, shortly after Ben graduated from _ Uni _. 

“I would pay good money to see that. You’re always so cool around other famous people.” 

Joe bumps his shoulder into Ben’s side and the blond just shakes his head but smiling all the same. 

“Oh yeah, now, he is.” Andy adds . 

“Are you two done taking the piss?” there’s a little laughter on the tip of Ben’s tongue as he says this. 

“Never.” Andy remarks with a huff, like that’s a pretty obvious answer to Ben’s question.

“Yeah…” Joe agrees. “But, I’ll give you a break cause I gotta use _ the loo _.” he rolls the English accent out of his tongue as he makes his way out of the booth and to the washroom. 

Once Joe is out of sight, Ben finds himself being stared at very squarely and intently by his best friend. He doesn’t even try to make an attempt at holding Andy’s stare, because he knows very well he wouldn’t be able to, not even for half a second. Andy shakes his head, and Ben pretends like he doesn’t see it. 

“You’re completely fucked, aren’t you?” Andy states plainly, and Ben tries not to wince at his words.

“What are you on about?” He knows it’s useless and futile, trying to avoid this conversation, but he tries. That’s what he’s always good at, anyway. Trying. Just like he’s trying not to be so _ bloody _ transparent about his feelings for Joe. 

“Oh don’t give me that Jones,” Andy looks at him dead serious and, to be honest, a little apprehensive too. “I thought it was all a joke.” 

“It was--and is, it’s just that--” Ben mumbles and doesn’t even know where to start but he has to say something. “Alright, yeah, you’re right. I_ am _fucked.” He places the heels of his palms on his eyes and rubs them with what sounds like a combination of a heavy sigh and a groan. As much as it does something pretty acrobatic and murderous to his insides to finally say it out loud, it also lifts something off of him, to finally admit it to at least one person. He had barely admitted it to himself only a few days ago, anyway. 

“Does he know?” Andy gestures with his thumb to the general direction of the washroom, where Joe went to several seconds ago. If Ben knows Andy well, and he does, he would have a million more questions already by now, and he’s rather glad Joe’s going to be back any minute so he won’t have to suffer through Andy’s interrogation. Not tonight at least.

“No.” his voice comes out a little shaky as he fiddles with the pint glass in front of him, already half empty. What is it that people always say about seeing the glass as half full or half empty? He’s feeling a lot like a half-emptied glass himself right now. _ Joe doesn’t know _. He doesn’t, right? 

“Well, is he blind?”

“Oh, piss off.” 

“It’s either that or he is a _ bloody idiot _ .” Andy says, half chuckling, and Ben looks up again, shooting daggers at him. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the bloke. But he _ has _ to be a fucking idiot not to notice you drooling all over him. He’s been here for what--a week, now?”

“And here I am, thinking I was being subtle.”

“As subtle as a brick to the face, mate.” Andy is clearly having the time of his life pointing all this out to him. 

“I can always count on you to be throwing said brick on my face, yeah?” Ben says, half glaring at him, and Andy chuckles. 

“You know you look like when we were about fifteen and you were crushing on this g--” 

“Oh shut up,” Ben cuts him off and Andy laughs. “And it’s not like that. This--this is different,” Ben pauses, and he knows Andy senses that he’s serious now. 

“So what are you going to do? Are you going to tell him?” 

“I--I’m not sure yet how, or when, but I figured I got to tell him at some point, yeah.” This is starting to sink in very quickly and it’s frankly a little daunting for him. Andy shakes his head, and quickly gets an evil smirk on his face. “What?” Ben asks, irritated.

“I can’t believe you want it up the arse with the lad from Jurassic Park.”

“Christ, Andy!” Ben almost cursed out loud, and immediately goes completely red in the face. Even though he was expecting this from his friend, and it was one of the reasons why he didn’t tell him before he was meeting Joe, it isn’t the same with actually hearing it being said. _ Bloody hell_, he thinks, as he wishes for the Earth to open up right now and swallow him. Especially as he can see Joe making his way back to their booth. 

“There was a very drunk Scottish man in the bathroom and he wanted to tell me something but I couldn’t make out a single word he was saying.” he sits right down back in his place next to Ben and looks back and forth between them, probably sensing that something had transpired in his absence, judging from the barely-concealed smirk on Andy’s face and Ben’s face that must have been still slightly coloured. “What? Did I miss anything?”

Ben’s eyes are fixed on Andy and they’re half threatening, half pleading his friend to not say anything revealing or inappropriate. Or both. Or better yet, don’t say anything at all. _ Don’t you bloody dare, Andy _, he mentally shouts, hoping it would get across, as it always does whenever they look at each other like that. 

“Not really.” Andy answers without missing a beat. Ben thinks he’s about to pass out from holding his breath, but now can breathe easily again. Joe doesn’t look too convinced however, but that’s not Ben’s primary concern right now. What he doesn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, or anyone else in the room, for that matter. “So, Joe, have you ever seen Ben play football?” Andy asks, and Ben isn’t sure if that’s exactly the kind of smooth turn in a conversation that he expects from his friend, but that’ll do for now.

True enough, Joe looks mildly puzzled by the question, but he quickly recovers. “No, I haven’t. We’ve watched some but haven’t seen him play.”

“Shame. You should see him, all sweaty and panting. If you’re not in love with him now, you’ll be after that for sure. He’s a sight for sore eyes.” Ben is considering murdering Andy right now, no joke, but he calms down a little when he hears Joe crack up because of course he’s laughing at this, why wouldn’t he? After all, he’s not the one with all these escalating feelings that are taking the entirety of his insides on a rollercoaster ride to hell and back. Just thinking about it makes him almost physically sick.

“Oh, I’ll make a mental note about it then,” Joe says, and Ben could almost see his brain working up something else to say to that too, oh _ bloody hell_. Between these two, tonight is probably gonna be the death of him, he’s pretty sure of it. “Although I’ve seen him play the drums, and he hit them hard, sweating and everything. Also,” Joe adds, putting a finger up, and Ben does the only thing he can, swallows and puts up what he hopes to be the most pokerface of all pokerfaces he has ever tried pulling. “Not to brag but I’ve had him bend over my lap in a school girl uniform, now _ that _ was a sight, I must say.”

“I thought I made a disappointing woman?” Ben asks with a little defensiveness in his voice. From across the table, he could see Andy grinning and very possibly stifling a laughter.

“Yeah, like I said, the thighs could have looked better,” Joe said with a bit of a frown like a critic, and then immediately breaks into a wicked, wicked smile, with the right amount of sleaziness thrown in, before he continues, “but you were a sight to behold, alright.” 

Andy breaks into a loud laughter and Ben tries to keep up appearance by attempting at rolling his eyes at both of them. _This is just great, isn’t it_, he mentally chides himself. It must have worked, because Andy is now laughing even louder than before, and Joe seems thoroughly pleased with himself.

“You know--” He starts to try and divert the conversation away from himself. “Joe didn’t know _ perm _ stood for _ permanent _.” 

He could see Joe heaved a dramatic, incredulous sigh before saying, “Using my own joke on me? Oh come on, Jones. You can do better than that!” By now, Andy is positively in tears from laughing too much.

“Now I see why you two get along so well,” he says after he has considerably calmed down. “You’re both incredibly _ daft._” Ben wants to say something to that but Andy is faster to continue. “Well, at least I’m glad Ben found you so he’s not alone so much when he’s away from home. He’s not very good at that.” Despite addressing Joe, Andy looks at him as he speaks, all traces of mocking and teasing gone from his eyes. This is best-friend mode Andy, the one who cares about Ben more than anything or anyone else in the world. And after all the crazy acrobatic moves his heart had been subjected to throughout the evening, he finds himself a little overwhelmed by it. His group of friends, especially Andy, has always been among the most important people in his life, one that he would trust everything with and know that they would never let him down. To hear this from Andy’s mouth is immediately reassuring, and it makes him feel a lot better almost instantly. 

“Yeah, _ I got you. _ Don’t worry.” And now Joe is looking at him as well, even though the reply is supposed to be directed to Andy, and suddenly Ben is feeling a little at a loss to what is currently happening. 

“I mean, you’re not me. But you’re alright, I guess.” Andy retorts for good measure, and Joe chuckles good naturedly in reply. It’s a little strange witnessing this exchange happening, Ben thinks as he gulps down whatever is left of his beer even as Joe and Andy carries on talking about sports, with Andy telling Joe that he is missing out on a lot because he has never watched a cricket match before. “If you love baseball as much as you tell me you do, mate, you’re gonna go mad over cricket,” Andy is saying, and Joe is already looking like he’s ready to drag both Andy and Ben to the next nearest cricket match, which thankfully isn’t happening anytime soon. They continue chatting with effortless ease, going from one topic to another, and as Ben listens on, he feels reaffirmed that he had made the right decision to introduce them to each other.

When he looks at them again, Andy catches his eyes and smiles briefly at him even as Joe is talking and gesturing broadly with his hands as he always does when he gets pumped up about something. It’s the kind of reassuring smile that they give each other at the most crucial times, the one that proves they only want the best for each other and Andy must think Joe could be it for him. Ben is content knowing this, and it’s probably the only thing he needs right now, at this very moment, before he starts worrying about anything else, especially everything involving Joe and his feelings for the older man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So?? What did you think of Andy? Do we love him or do we love him?  
We really had a lot of fun writing this one and picturing these two going around an Arcade. We hope you enjoy it too! As usual, please leave us comments and your predictions for what's to come! We love reading you guys❤️


	7. If this is love, why does it break me down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves.

Another day and they're on their last leg of 'touristy routine', as Joe likes to call it, walking everywhere and stopping whenever Ben stops and going in wherever the younger man pulls him in. They had English breakfast at Ben's favourite place, lunch by yet another park, and the day concludes with afternoon tea. They are walking leisurely now, steps falling in rhythm with each other as they make their way through Tower Hill’s station. It’s another half an hour before the end of rush hour, and people pass them by in a breezing blur, not that either of them seem to mind. Between a Londoner and a New Yorker, they know how to effortlessly keep moving at their own desired pace in the midst of a bustling crowd. When they hop on, the tube is already nearly full that they barely manage to squeeze in, standing a little to the right side of the door. Ben is leaning against the wall of the train while Joe is standing beside him to his right, leaning against the vertical blue bar behind him, shoulders bumping as they cram themselves in whatever space available on the carriage. In fact, they’re lucky to be able to score that little corner near the door, while everyone else is standing shoulder to shoulder along the length of the train. 

The door closes and the train glides forward. It hums low, reverberating along its length as it pushes through the darkness of the tunnel. Joe closes his eyes and involuntarily thinks of New York and its subway. London and its tube. Him in New York. Ben in London. He wonders why is he thinking of distance when there is none at the moment. He is with Ben here in London, on its tube, standing so close to each other that Joe thinks the sleeves of their sweaters or the leg of their jeans must be brushing each other occasionally, rocked by the train’s movement. Ben must have noticed this, because Joe could feel him leaning forward, erasing half of the already very little distance between them. Joe doesn’t move, wonders if he looks like a still life suspended against the background of the moving train.

“You alright mate?” Ben asks. 

“Yeah,” Joe answers, eyes still closed,”'just a little tired.” 

A few minutes pass by, accompanied by the continuous humming of the train. Someone is listening to hip hop at ear-threatening volume, because the beat and bass of the song reaches Joe’s ears like music playing from a club down the street. Just then, the train reaches its next stop and the crowd begins to shift, pushing and pulling everyone into and against its lull and ebb. As the door opens and the people disembarking begins making a beeline to exit its cavernous belly, Joe is pushed quite firmly by the tide and it catches him unaware. Luckily it is Ben, and not some stranger that is standing to his side. So when Joe crashes into him, the younger man instantly wraps a steadying arm around him, as Joe grapples to do it himself since there is no clear surface for him to land his hand on; they are standing immediately beside the door and it is presently slid open. As the beeline rushes past them, they remained like that, pressed together chest to chest. He thinks he's imagining it, but when he tries to move away from the younger man, Ben's arm around him tightens so he stays where he is, where his lips and nose are buried in the soft fabric of Ben's sweater. 

The beeline ends, bringing with it a swarm of boarding passengers. Isn’t it funny, Joe thinks, that time moves both alarmingly fast and excruciatingly slow, as bodies and faces pass by him in a steady blur while within his ribcage, his own heart is beating in measured beats; each one punctuated by his breath. _ Or is it Ben’s _ ? The train continues its humming in his ears. _ Does it matter _?

What matters is Ben’s arm that is still around him, and his hand clutching at the blue-grey sweater. It smells like its owner; soap and musky cologne with a hint of coffee and cigarette. Joe is familiar with this scent; it fills the spaces in his home, his room, his bed. It lingers long enough even when its owner isn’t around, it stays even longer in his memory. He takes a deep breath and his eyes closed shut. So maybe his hand finds its way around Ben’s back too, maybe they are holding each other so close now that neither wants to let go. Maybe this is how time stops for two people while it keeps moving for the rest of the world.

The door of the train closes with a two-beat beep. As if jolted awake from a deep sleep, they move away and apart from each other. Their arms are the last to leave each other’s side, moving away slowly as if loathing each passing second. Ben shifts his footing a little so his shoulder finds Joe’s again, the back of their hands touching. 

Joe thinks about what if he shifts his hand so that their palms meet instead? What if he laces their fingers together?

As immediately as those thoughts form in his head, he knows he would never do it now. Things are always easier when he doesn’t think about them. Like when they were waltzing to no music and biting an apple between their mouths, or when they ended up in his hotel room, not drunk enough to do anything stupid but stupid enough to record the continuation video of waking up with cardboard Ben in bed. There’s a longer footage, of course. And people would be surprised to know that most of the things that happened in the rest of that video were not his idea to begin with. That, and Ben never thinks of anything as a bad idea. Even when he’s lying down on Joe’s lap in a schoolgirl uniform with a skirt so short that of course there was no way Joe would let him get away without a spanking or two. Or three. He wondered which part of that was not a bad idea when he was lying down on his bed in his hotel room that night, and his mind played and replayed the events of the day with minute precision in high definition, and he had never felt so betrayed by his own mind and body since he was last a prepubescent teenager. 

But he clearly is no longer one, and he had learned since to let things pass. And they always and definitely will, in their own way and time, it’s just that--

\--it’s just that Ben, with his large green eyes and full-lipped boyish smile, is a really stubborn, clingy and persistent presence in his mind that refuses to leave him alone. And it’s not like he’s helping his case either, chasing after Ben himself, flying all the way from New York to London just because he called the younger man afternoon and he told him he was lonely. There has to be a limit to how much and how far can a person delude himself. Joe thinks he’s somewhere near the fine line. Or already beyond it. Either way, thinking about all this is beginning to make him feel light-headed. He could actually sense the beginning of a headache forming under his temples and the arch of his eyebrows. 

The train reaches a stop and the door opens with the now-familiar sounding beep. The backs of their hands are still touching. 

“Hey,” Ben hits the backs of their hands together. “This is _ us_,” he says. The moment is too fast and fleeting to dwell on, but Joe wonders how such a mundane, common expression gets him thinking of metaphors and meanings. Ben is looking at him now, and Joe doesn’t look away. He thinks of various objects to compare the green in Ben’s eyes with, but couldn’t think of any that quite matches their shade and light. 

Joe tells himself to snap out of it. And he does.

When it seems like the last exiting passenger for this stop has disembarked, he uncrosses his ankles and straightens himself up. With the same self-assured smile and enthusiasm he had when they went into the photo booth in the arcade a couple of days ago, he grabs Ben’s hand. 

“Well, what are we waiting for?” he shrugs. “Let’s go,” and he leads them both out of the train and onto the platform, even as he’s sure he hears a low but distinct rumbling that sounds like thunder from beyond the roof above them.

  
  


*****

When they get out of the train and into the station, Ben is already painfully itching for a smoke. He does not want to let go of Joe’s hand but as he palms his trousers looking for the pack, he realizes that it is in the right back pocket of his jeans, which he could only retrieve using his right hand, which just so happens to be held by Joe right now. On the other hand, letting go isn’t an entirely bad idea, either. As Joe grabbed his hand even before they stepped out of the train onto the platform, he was so startled that his heart began racing ridiculously fast in his chest, it almost feels like it’s going to burst. Earlier, when they were on the tube, Joe had been pushed by the wave of exiting passengers and ended up in his arms, and it took every single fibre of consciousness in Ben’s brain not to hold on to him for the rest of the train ride. But in the end he had to let go of Joe after he found his footing again. Even then, he couldn’t help himself to shift closer to Joe and keep the length of their arms pressed together throughout their tube ride. When they arrived at their stop, he tapped the back of Joe’s hand with his, but what he did not expect was for the older man, who was quiet and wistful throughout their time on the tube, to suddenly shrug and grab his hand nonchalantly, as if it was the most natural thing to do in the world. And Ben had wanted to hit himself in the face right there and then for being such a school boy and getting himself worked up over a hand-holding. He had to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling so ridiculously wide while he was being led out of the train, and when Joe did not let go of his hand, he began dreading this overwhelming feeling of hope and want that he has been trying to keep under wraps fairly successfully so far. 

It’s the last evening with Joe in London, and Ben is almost a hundred percent sure now his heartbeat won’t go back to its normal pace until Joe boards his plane the next morning. Maybe not even then.

He has completely forgotten about wanting to smoke. But it was Joe, not him, who let go of their joined hands.

"Look," Joe elbows him softly and gets him out of his thoughts. He looks up and watches people rushing inside the station covering their heads with whatever they had handy. Apparently, in the half hour they spent in the subway, London’s weather, as unpredictable as ever, decided it was a good time to start pouring down like there’s no tomorrow. 

They walk towards the entrance to see how bad it really is, peeking their heads out. “Should we wait it out for a while? Or get a cab?” Joe frowns, clearly debating the choices at hand.

“Or, we could make a run for it. It’s just a few blocks.” A cheeky smirk forms on Ben’s lips, suddenly emboldened by the turn of events. Maybe it was the accidental hug on the tube, maybe it was Joe holding his hand, maybe it’s the rain. Maybe he just needs an excuse to touch and hold Joe in his arms again.

“You can’t be serious.” Joe says and he frowns as he watches Ben shrugs off the bomber jacket he was wearing over his sweater. “That thing can’t keep the rain off of us,” he criticizes further.

“What’s up, Mazzello? Afraid of a little rain? Come on!” he puts an arm around Joe with his jacket above them, covering their heads. 

“How mature, Jones,” Joe deadpans, shaking his head.

Ben was just glad to let out a laugh to release some of the tension in his chest that is threatening to burst. “Ready? Hold on to me.” 

“You’re not giving me any say in this, are you?” Joe is incredulous, but it all sounds like a sham, just him putting up disagreement for the sake of argument. Otherwise he wouldn’t have hooked his arm around Ben’s waist as quickly as he did, pressing their sides as closely as possible. “And here I thought I’m the crazy one,” Joe shakes his head for added effect. Ben grins at him. They’re so close and Joe is so warm and the rain is going to be so cold and he just wants to kiss him right now.

“What if I get soaked and end up catching a cold before I leave?”

Ben laughs then, mostly at himself, and his ridiculous train of thought. Andy was right. He’s _ fucked _. “You can blame me for it.”

“I still don’t think this is the best idea.”

“No one says it is.”

“I hate it whenever you say that.”

“Joe--”

“Okay, _ okay _, fine.”

Ben gives him a final warning, a nod and Joe nods in return so they go for it, out of the station onto the sidewalk and the steadily pouring spring London rain. 

Joe was right after all, the jacket isn’t doing much in terms of a cover and Ben notices this as soon as they passed by the first couple of blocks. However, he isn’t about to stop them from braving the rain and getting completely and ridiculously soaked. As selfish as it may sound, it’s the only thing keeping Joe close to him at the moment. They’re pressed together, moving in matching steps and frankly, he’s just happy to have his arm around Joe and Joe’s around his waist, reminiscent of the moment in the tube when he was holding Joe close. More than anything else, he’d rather risk getting a cold than stop doing _ this _, walking in the cold rain with the warmth of Joe’s body alongside his.

They must have walked for a good ten minutes, which is more than enough time to get properly drenched. The area, its sidewalks and streets are almost empty at this hour of the evening, and the rain must have kept most people indoors too, _ because they are sane _, Joe would have said to him, and Ben cannot help but chuckle silently at the thought, and because he knows Joe too well. When they finally reach Ben’s front entrance, they make a quick run for the door, which Ben easily opens to let them in. 

Once they are inside, dripping rain water from head to toe, him standing facing the doorway and Joe with his back towards it, Ben drops the wet jacket on the floor and stretches an arm past Joe to close the door behind him. That quickly brings them face to face, inches apart from each other, as the remnants of exhilaration they felt from walking-running in the pouring rain quickly dies from their lips, and suddenly the heavy air around them is filled with something else, and it is thicker and heavier than the rain outside, and even possibly messier than the pooling water spreading everywhere and seeping into the flooring right now. Joe shivered a little, presumably from the coldness of being drenched, and Ben watches as he tries to shake it off, along with the strangeness in the air, with an attempt at smiling, but that dies rather quickly too. Dimly, as if from a different space in his mind, Ben is worried about what Joe could possibly see in his eyes right now, because he could feel himself burning up from the inside out, as if he’s already getting a bad case of fever for not only foolishly getting himself soaked in the rain, but also for falling madly in love with the man standing in front of him now. 

And if he knows Joe as well as he thinks he does, he must have seen something, sensed something, because the way he quietly breathes out his name makes Ben feel like he wants to kiss him and apologize, all at the same time.

But he does neither. Instead, he lets his head drop a little and rests his forehead on Joe’s. He shuts his eyes tight and swallows all the words he could not say, not now, anyway. 

“Ben,” he tries again, and Ben does not want to hear anything else that Joe might or might not have to say, because he knows he will start apologizing, and if he does, then he will have to start explaining, and he is not sure if he could even string a complete sentence to explain what is he doing here, standing in front of his door, soaking wet and pressing his forehead on Joe’s. He still has his eyes closed, as if the darkness behind his eyelids would shield him from the sheer ridiculousness of the picture he must be making at the moment.

Right before he thinks Joe is about to say something, he opens his mouth to speak instead.

“Don’t. Just--don’t say anything, please. Just let it be for tonight.” His mouth has gone all dry and he has to swallow. “_Please_.” It comes out like a whisper mingled with his breath, like a secret he wants them both to keep, even from each other. Joe shivers again, a little and so briefly that he could have easily missed it if his senses aren’t hyper sensitive and receptive to the presence of the one person who exists both in front of his eyes and in his mind constantly. 

It must have been his conscience which thankfully is still functioning, noticing that Joe’s shivering, means that he is cold and needs to do something about it, that forces him to finally step back and away from the man, and finally his mouth utters something sensible for the first time since the afternoon turned into evening. 

“You should get out of those wet clothes and take a hot shower before going to sleep so you don’t catch that cold.” He could hear himself speaking, his voice mechanical and loud in his own ears, as if there is another Ben giving out instruction from a manual somewhere in his living room. 

“What about you?” Joe asks after him and follows him further inside as well. Ben doesn’t turn to look at him. 

“I’ll just change for now, maybe shower later.”

He could feel Joe’s gaze on him, and there is nothing else that he’s afraid of more than if Joe starts asking him about things that he doesn’t have answers for, or rather things which he doesn’t want to admit he has answers for.

So he starts mechanically going about doing things that are routine and familiar which does not require him to think while doing them, and most importantly would allow him to not look at Joe, even though he could feel the other man's eyes following him around and about the house while he moves in and out of rooms, taking out and putting away things. He could hear Joe sighing from somewhere behind him before he makes a move for the bathroom. After Joe heads for the shower he changes out of his wet clothes and into sweatpants and a white t-shirt. He then puts the clothes in the dryer where he’ll put Joe’s as well for him to pack the next morning. 

What's next? As usual, a cup of tea that he leaves on the nightstand on the side of the bed Joe’s been occupying the last few days. Then he turned off the lights, and heads for the living room. He sits waiting to hear the sound of Joe coming out of the bathroom and settling in for the night. Only then will he get up to use the bathroom. And of course he does not want to think about sleeping arrangement tonight. He doesn't even know if he could fall asleep. His hand reaches out for the book that he has been reading on and off in between scripts that his agent routinely sends his way. He flicks through the pages absentmindedly and he doesn’t know how or when it happens but sleep catches him while he's clutching the hardcover print to his chest. 

*****

After his shower, Joe heads back to the bedroom feeling clean and warm from sitting under the stream of hot water. He wanted to stay longer in the shower frankly, and let the steady drone of the pressurised water drown all the sounds outside and the thoughts inside his mind. He does not want to think about it, and there is nothing to think about if he doesn't start asking questions. It's probably for the best that nothing more than what happened just now, took place. It was just Ben resting his forehead on his. It’s not like he was trying to kiss him or anything. 

Or was he? Joe dreads answering, so he doesn't. Instead, he peeks inside before going in and notices the room is empty. He still can't quite decide if what he feels is worry or relief. He puts away a few things into his suitcase so he’s left with little to pack the next morning as he habitually sips the tea that was made for him, not daring to but wanting to glance over his shoulder from time to time, expecting Ben to come in at any moment. Or not. The amount of contradicting thoughts tearing at him right now is so great that he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. There you go, _ one more for the night _. 

When the tea in his mug is long gone and the living room is still quiet and dark, he knows that enough time has passed for him to conclude that Ben is not going to come into the room anytime soon. He must have fallen asleep on the couch, and he hasn’t even showered yet. Joe shakes his head. He’s leaving for New York tomorrow, and he’s already worried about whether Ben is going to be alright by himself here or not. _ He’s not a kid _, he chides himself. And he has lived alright all this while, he will be busy again travelling for work very soon, he’s going to be more than alright. 

Or perhaps it is himself that he’s worried about. Is he going to be alright in New York while Ben is in London?

He wants to switch off the light on the nightstand and lie down to sleep, but gets up instead, empty mug in one hand. He walks over to the living room and true enough, Ben is sleeping sitting down on the couch, hands on his chest, holding the opened hardcover print of Good Omens facedown. He remembers looking at the tastefully designed cover of the book, very Gatsby-like, very different than the ones he has seen before, and not the show tie-in either. The book was sitting on Ben’s coffee table together with a few copies of scripts, which they ended up looking through together and talked about. Ever since Bohemian Rhapsody, Ben has been receiving an increased amount of scripts and offers, which Joe is more than happy to hear. He’s a trained actor, a great one at that, and is hardworking and well-deserving of all the current and future attention he’s going to get in his growing career. And _ as a friend _, he’s going to give all the amount of support and help Ben needs. If he requires them. Anything he needs, really. Including flying all the way to London just so Ben would feel less lonely. 

Each time he’s reminded of this fact, he strangely suspects there is a voice in his head which sole existence there is just to mock him. 

But he has refused to overthink this from the beginning, and he doesn’t want to start now. So he focuses on what’s in front of him now, which is one sleeping Ben Jones who is going to regret killing his back sleeping the whole night like this. He removes the book first, closing it and putting it away, then he decides on trying to see if Ben would wake up, and if maybe he’d still like to take that shower, and then sleep properly on his bed, in the room. There’s a nagging voice at the back of his head that is telling him that if Ben does wake up, shower and then go to bed, it would be him who will end up taking up the couch for the night, which frankly is the better option. After all, he’s leaving tomorrow. Spending one night on the couch is not even that big of a deal. And he is so awake right now, he doubts that he will be able to sleep anyway, and his flight is just several hours away now, in the morning.

“Ben,” he calls out, shaking his arm a little. When he neither moves or appears to hear him, Joe tries again. “Hey, Ben,” a little louder this time, but all Joe gets is a hand falling limply on his side. Once, Joe jokingly told Ben that his superpower is his ability to dead-sleep through anything. Joe thinks maybe it’s time to see how does this theory hold up, so he starts shifting Ben so that he’s lying down on the couch instead of sitting up. He begins with his upper body, pushing it sideways and down so he’s going to eventually land his head on the armrest of the couch. Then he starts moving and lifting his legs up on the couch, and he tries doing this as carefully as he could, not because he doesn’t want Ben to wake up, but rather he does not know what he would do or say if Ben suddenly wakes up and they would again, find themselves in such close proximity with one another. He is already relieved that he does not need to deal with the strange, slightly charged air between them since earlier in the evening, at least not tonight. And tomorrow will come so swiftly and then it’s time for him to leave. He thinks he could survive a couple of possibly weird, quiet hours with Ben tomorrow just fine. Or maybe he wouldn’t have to. When they wake up tomorrow, maybe everything would play out as how it usually would, and they would never have to bring up that moment when he was pressed between the stark contrast of the door’s polished hardwood, and Ben, all firm limbs and damp, hot skin. 

Joe realizes perhaps a little too late now, that recalling memories does not require any actual thinking to take place.

So he is more than glad to see that Ben remained asleep through it all. When he is finally sleeping more sensibly and comfortably on the length of the couch, just shifting himself a little as Joe covers him with a throw that he took from the side of the backrest of the couch. This is not the first time he finds himself trying not to stare at the sleeping man, trying not to notice how the soft light filtering through the large windows of the living room bathes over his sleeping face and leaves a pale gold tint on his hair. Trying very hard not to notice the way he tucks his chin close to his chest, and how the corners of his mouth--

Joe inhales sharply and closes his eyes as he forcefully pries his attention away from the couch, and picks up his empty mug before heading to the kitchen. He picks up the copy of Good Omens too and tucks it under his arm as an afterthought; he is going to make himself another cup of tea, and hopefully Pratchett and Gaiman can either keep him company, or put him to sleep. Either way, it’s going to be a long, stretched out hours before the night turns into dawn and it’s time for him to fly back to the States.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we did say this fic is a slow burn. Is it smoking? Scorching? Blazing? Burning long and deep like forest fire? We're probably guilty for arson(ing your heart) but if you stop us, nobody will know how does this story eventually end. Muahaha.  
Honestly we do love this chapter so much and we have read and reread it a million times ourselves so, we want to know how you guys feel about it!  
Let us know in the comments or come shout at us on Tumblr!


	8. The curves of your lips rewrite history

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is dedicated to Zara.❤️ (theLazarus here)

The airport buzzes and hums with constant movement and activity, of human and electronic sounds over the speakers and all around the space. The first hour or so of them being there is a practice of going over the routine. Loading Joe’s luggage, getting his online ticket and doing some paperwork that they go through like second nature because of the amount of travelling they do all the time. Once they’re done, all that is left to do is wait for Joe’s flight to start boarding, which allow them some time to kill together still. 

Ben hears Joe chuckle softly from beside him, so he turns to look at him. 

“Lucy has already added me to her calendar to meet her when I get to New York” Joe says as he types something down on his iPhone, shaking his head before putting the phone away. 

Ben raises his eyebrows in response. 

“Yes, you heard that right, calendar. I’m going to get a notification an hour before and everything.”

“I should ask her if she schedules her dates with Rami like that too,” Ben deadpans.

“You think?” Joe asks scandalously.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she does,” Ben says, chuckling, and Joe laughs.

“Maybe Rami spends too much time on his calendar that he doesn’t have time to go on social media or reply to people’s texts on time,” Joe says half-mockingly, half-bitterly.

“Sometimes you’re so petty, you know that?”

“The same way sometimes you’re so immature? Oh yes, I know that. It’s one of my loveable qualities.” 

Ben had to stop himself short before he blurts out, _ you’re damn right _. Instead, he rolls his eyes, and Joe laughs louder. It’s times like this that he is glad that Joe is who he is. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Joe had avoided him completely after last night. But he had not.

When Ben woke up that morning with a start, he immediately recalled falling asleep on the sofa last night, while thumbing through his copy of Good Omens. And he was definitely sitting down. But, he woke up on his back, lying down with his favourite throw covering him, so that made him get up and walk over to the bedroom. He peered in and saw Joe asleep in bed, on his side--Ben’s side--with the covers partially over him and the light on the nightstand still switched on. And then he saw his copy of Good Omens lying right beside him, just inches away from his face. He must have fallen asleep reading it too. Which means he had taken it away from him sometime after he fell asleep. Which also means that he had maybe tried waking him up sometime in the night, and when he, as expected, didn’t even stir, Joe helped him settle on the sofa more comfortably. 

Ben stood leaning himself against the door frame, only half of his figure visible in the doorway. He then sighed and rested his forehead against the wooden frame. It’s too early in the day to be feeling this way. 

Almost on its own accord, his mind pictured Joe putting away the book he must have held on to while sleeping, got him to lie down on the sofa and covered him with the throw. Had Joe wanted to read the book? Had he taken it as an afterthought, or perhaps something to read to help him sleep? Did he stay on to look at him sleep much like what he’s doing now? 

Is he finally allowed to have some hope, then?

“She wanted you to bring her Custard Creams, right? She’ll kill you if you forget them,” he says, getting on the conversation again in an attempt to not focus too much on his thoughts. He looks over at Joe again now but quickly looks away before the urge to reach out and touch his hand, or his arm, or his shoulder, becomes too strong to ignore. He thinks he must be going crazy. This is becoming a pattern now whenever he finds himself near Joe and pondering over his feelings at the same time.

“I would never,” Joe gasps dramatically, pretending to be scandalized. “As if. I thought you had more faith in me, Ben.”

_ I’d put all my faith in you, Joe_, _ if you’d let me_. He only dares say this to himself, of course. 

_ If only _. He knows Joe is looking at him now with the usual spark in his eyes whenever they’re bantering like this. The only problem is with him. He is both glad and thankful that Joe has been nothing but his normal, usual self around Ben since morning, except that it’s not helping Ben to keep his feelings in check. He feels like a kid who had successfully taken away a cookie from the cookie jar hidden in the cupboard, and now he wants to have them all.

And maybe, just maybe, he could get away with it this time.

“You’ll be alright then,” he answers distractedly and nods, his gaze on Joe is very brief as he tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth over and over. The conversation dies down a little while Ben’s anxiety only grows by the second, together with the silence that is quickly becoming thicker and heavier, and he does not know which one is doing a better job at eating him away from the inside.

Perhaps it’s this desperation, or it’s the illusion of hope that emboldens him to do it, but he finally and quite suddenly cannot contain it anymore. He doesn’t want to. Maybe it will all go to shit and he would be left with nothing, but he thinks it’s better than endlessly wondering if he could have had his feelings reciprocated. 

_ If maybe_. 

After all, they have established that he’s the immature one. So let him be really immature for once, and put everything at stake.

So when he finally gathers all his courage and wits about him to look at Joe again, right in his eyes, he finds Joe looking at him smiling still, and of course there is nothing else he’d want more right now than to kiss him. And so he does. He reaches out without hesitation, not allowing himself to second-guess this, cups Joe’s face in his hands gingerly but firmly and brings their lips together.

He closes his eyes, too nervous to look, to feel, to think. It’s like running as you realize the ground is crumbling everywhere beneath you. It’s like trying to fly when you know that you don’t really have wings. It’s just you, and your sheer determination and hope that you will keep yourself afloat, that gravity will let you off for once, and not pull you down under.

Maybe.

Maybe it’s Joe’s hand that he feels touching the back of his elbow, over his sweatshirt. Maybe it’s Joe leaning ever slightly into the kiss, maybe he’s not just imagining it. 

Maybe he is finally allowed to hope, after all.

But hope is an elusive, tricky thing. And hope does not resolve anything in the end. When he opens his eyes and pulls away, Joe does too, instantaneously. Almost immediately Ben could see a wall in Joe’s eyes; they’re bright and open, but hard and empty. And suddenly he is no longer sure if Joe had really touched his arm, or if he had kissed him back, even if only for a moment. Perhaps it was his hope, overcharged and unchecked, playing a trick on him.

“There’s no fancy way to say this,” he almost surprises himself with the shaking he could hear and feel in his voice, “but I--” he swallows the breath that gets caught in his throat. Here goes nothing.

"I want more." He starts in a voice he can barely recognize as his. In fact, he could barely ascertain if any and all parts of his body are still his, and under his control. He doesn’t know how his lips and tongue are moving to form these words, he doesn’t know where do they come from. He doesn’t know if his heart is still beating right. His brain, completely shut. 

"I want _ us _ to be more." He pauses to let his words sink in on Joe who's staring at him now. His eyes are still that wall of glass, bright, but reflecting absolutely nothing. Ben tells himself that he does not expect anything more, or less. 

"I--” He hesitates, tries choosing better words. “My feelings for you have gotten so big and uncontrollable that I don’t think I can just be your friend anymore, not right now at least. But I’d like to know,” he pauses to swallow. The words are threatening to abandon him now, “if you’re even close to feeling the same way or I’m just a delusional idiot.”

Joe presses his lips together into a tight, thin line. His eyes are still unreadable, impenetrable fortress, and when he looks down to the toes of their shoes, so close they are almost touching, Ben thinks that perhaps this is a bad idea after all, this is the worst of all the bad ideas he has ever come up with and never admitted. 

But this is also not the time to give up. At least not yet.

“Look, I don’t expect you to have an answer right now. Take your time. Take all the time you need. I just want you to think about this. About _ us _. But,” he bites on his lip a little before continuing, “Don’t call me or text me until you have an answer for me. Please?”

“Wh-what?" Joe looks taken aback, and mouths his next question carefully. "Ben, are you serious?”

“_Please _?” Ben pleads. 

Joe stares at him with a frown, blinks once and when he speaks, it is as if the words are coming out together with a heavy sigh. “You _ are _ serious. I can’t believe this,” he mutters, and Ben does not know whether it was for both of them to hear or perhaps it was Joe unintentionally thinking aloud.

A voice through the speakers of the airport announces that the passengers of Joe’s flight have to get to the boarding platform. They both look around as if they could see where the voice comes from, and then back at each other. 

“If that’s what you want,” he says softly, pausing to clear his throat. “Ben, I--” there’s a momentary hesitation, his face drawn into a frown. “I--have to go now.”

Ben closes his eyes for a second, and swallows visibly. It feels like there are other things he wants to say, but they are stuck in his throat, and he's fighting for them to come out. What if this is the only time ever? What if there will never be any other time or chance to say this afterwards?

At least he would not be haunted by these what ifs for the rest of his life. 

“Joe,” he says quietly, “I love you,” it comes out almost as a whisper.

The wall in Joe's eyes shifts, almost softens. But it is only momentarily, that Ben thinks it could all just be in his head. Him and his desperation to cling onto some and any form of hope. After all, it would only matter if Joe says it back, wouldn't it? 

Joe nods, once. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again, eyes shifting to the LED display screen calling for all passengers to board the plane. When he looks up to Ben--is that pain Ben could see in his eyes?--the moment passes too quickly for him to be able to tell for sure. He’s not in his right mind to be analyzing things anyway. The silence he’s getting from the older man is deafening his ears, clouding his eyes.

“Take care, Ben.” Joe finally speaks.

“Yeah-- you too.” 

Ben watches closely as Joe takes a couple of steps backward before turning on his heels and walking into the departure gate. He doesn't turn back. Very quickly, he disappears behind the gate that would bring him to the departure hall. Ben doesn’t move for what seems to him the longest time, rooted to the spot where he’s standing. It’s time to make his move from the airport, he figures, but at the same time, he foolishly refuses to, as if he could still see in his mind’s eyes, Joe standing in front of him.

There’s a sinking feeling in his gut, and he’s standing in the middle of a huge quicksand that he cannot get out of.

_ What if this is our goodbye? _

*****

Eight hours is a long time to be sitting on a plane, Joe thinks and sighs heavily, closing his eyes and pinching the space between his eyebrows with his thumb and forefinger. The plane has just taken off, it’s flying steady and most if not all passengers must have unfastened their safety belts by now. He doesn’t know and doesn’t look around, for once glad that he’s flying business class, because the last thing he needs right now is anyone trying to make nice or starting a small talk. He just wants to...sleep. He lets out another sigh, heavier than last. Who is he kidding. He’s not going to be able to catch a wink in this state of mind. There’s a hurricane raging in his head. A big one. An apocalyptic one. And right at the eye of it, is Ben.

He can feel the familiar lightheadedness, followed by muted throbbing near his temples, behind his eyebrows. Eight hours is a fucking long time to be sitting alone thinking about what the fuck just happened in the airport just now. Don’t get him wrong, he’s not mad at Ben. Well, okay, maybe a little, but mostly he is mad at himself, because if he had the guts to be honest to himself, he would have been able to see it coming. At least, he wouldn’t have been caught completely unaware, completely off guard. 

It was down to the last few minutes left with Ben, and he was torn between feeling like he didn’t want to leave Ben alone in London and looking forward to board the plane so he can put last night completely behind and away from him. And he was doing so well, making light-hearted conversation with Ben and making fun of friends they both missed and Ben had to--well, he can’t completely blame him for what he did either. He must have thought it was something that he absolutely needed to do, and he must have hesitated so much last night--

Of course he knew Ben wanted to kiss him that rainy night, as they were standing behind the door. Just as how he knew Ben had thought about the exact same thing when they were in the photobooth too.

Joe shuts his eyes and immediately regrets it, because within the darkness behind his eyelid, all he could see is Ben, kissing him as he stood frozen in the middle of Heathrow. There he was, thinking that all was left for him to do was to go through the gate into the departure hall, and there would again be physical distance between him and Ben. It will be one that he would both hate and be glad for, but that kiss? How the hell did _ that _ happen? 

Only when his brain seemed to have stopped working and something else that is more intuitive kicked in, and he was not overthinking anything, in fact he must have not been thinking about _ anything _ whatsoever _ , _ is when he found his hand moving on its own accord, it seemed--because his brain would not have allowed that to happen--to touch the back of Ben’s elbow, just a slight touch, as he leaned into the kiss.

_ Shit _.

He thinks in retrospect now that he shouldn’t have kissed Ben back, he really _ shouldn’t have _ , because now things are getting more muddled than ever, bigger and uncontrollable, just like what Ben said. He could still hear it in his ears, every single word. And it pains him to see and hear in Ben’s voice, so much uncertainty, and yet so much determination. _ This kid is tenacious _ , Rami once told him. _ I like him _, he went on to say, while Joe just nodded. He hates to agree with Rami, but it’s true. He didn’t know how to play drums, lied and got the part anyway. He didn’t have the build for women’s outfit, went and rocked it anyway. 

He fell in love with his straight best friend, went and kissed him anyway.

Joe could not possibly imagine how much guts it took Ben to tell him that he loves him. _ Ben Jones, in love with him _ . He mulls and ponders this over and over again in his head. _ How absurd _. But if it is not real, is not true, he wouldn’t possibly have put their friendship at stake just to say that he loves him. Because it will change things. Once that fine line between being just friends and something more is crossed, there can never be a point of return. Things will be awkward, they will avoid each other, there will be a wedge making the gap between them bigger and bigger until eventually they will be no more.

_ Then why the hell did you kiss him back, you moron? _

He barely realizes it when a stewardess makes her way over to set his tray table for lunch which will be served anytime soon. He has already drank two glasses of champagne before the plane took off, and ordered red wine together with lunch. He doubts that he will do more than just pick at his food, but he’s looking forward to drinking the wine which he’s sure he will finish. And ask for refills later. Whatever to quiet down his thoughts and help him to sleep. Otherwise, he would go crazy thinking about the same thing, the same person over and over again the entire flight, because that is exactly what his overthinking brain would do.

His glass of wine is served first before lunch arrives shortly after. He leaves the food untouched, finishes his glass of wine and asks for a refill when the stewardess comes over to take away his plate. He’s beginning to relax a little, his thoughts becoming less frantic than before. His second glass of wine arrives, and as he sips it his gaze falls on his phone, tucked away inside the side compartment between his seat and the window. The clouds outside are white and thick and stretches forever, as far as his eyes could see. Above it, the sky is clear, brilliant blue. He takes his phone and snaps a few photos, then opens his phone gallery to check the shots. The thumbnail display of the gallery appears, and the first photo that his eyes fell on is the one of him, Ben and Andy. There’s one that was taken by one of the pub’s staff, and a few of them sitting closely together, taken as a selfie. He cannot pinpoint it right now, but there was a point somewhere in their conversation where he almost felt like Andy knew what was going on with Ben, and he was giving a best friend’s approval over Ben’s choice. Maybe it is not apparent in just about anybody’s eyes, but Andy is, after all, Ben’s closest friend, and they have known each other since high school, longer than anyone else. And Ben did mention that Andy had wanted to meet him, which is nothing strange but nothing too ordinary either, after all there’s not really any need for him and Andy to actually make a point to meet each other, even if Andy has heard so much about him from Ben. 

Unless, of course, if there is actually a need for him to get a stamp of approval from Ben’s longest lasting best mate. Or not. He is, perhaps, as usual, overthinking this.

Like he is overthinking Ben’s hesitance to initially share the bed with him, or when Ben woke up quite suddenly in the middle of the night with a start, surprised at their close proximity. He wonders at what point of time did Ben realize his feelings for him, and if he was not helping the situation by behaving the way he did. There must be a limit to what friends do for and with each other, and he must have crossed it somewhere. He must have been leading Ben on. Maybe he shouldn’t have come to London. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked Ben to go to Catalina with him. Maybe they shouldn’t like each other’s company so much that it’s hard not to go a day without at least a text from each other. 

_ Don’t call me or text me until you have an answer for me. Please? _

Joe puts both his palms over his face, sighing heavily. Did he really have to say it like that? He only hopes that Ben knows what he’s saying, because he sure as hell doesn’t. How does he not text or call until he has an answer for him? Is he blackmailing him for an answer? What answer could he possibly give Ben?

By the time he finished his fourth glass of wine, Joe is ready to sleep off his mildly drunk, overthinking self. He has already reclined the seat and, wrapping the blanket around himself, he’s now gazing outside the window to look at the calming white and blue. His last recollection is of Ben’s blue-grey sweater, much like the colour of the blanket he is clutching right now, over his chest and shoulders. He remembers the softness, and the warmth of Ben’s arm around him in the tube, their hot and damp foreheads touching, and Ben’s lips, tasting like coffee and mint. Finally, he drifts into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit. So that happened.  
This is kind of the end of the first arch of this story.  
How are we feeling? Do you guys need ice-cream? Tissues? Cuddles?  
Let us know in the comments here or come shout at us on tumblr!


	9. When dreaming with a broken heart, waking up is the hardest part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe we're not dead?  
This one is a long one to make up for the two weeks absence. Enjoy!

The moment he lands at JFK airport, like everyone else, he takes out his phone and switches off the airplane mode. The connection comes back instantly, bringing with it a stream of text notifications, emails and alerts. Joe always has a list of people he would usually text once he's landed safely in certain places. His mom, his manager. The people he's gonna meet at said place. And Ben, who has, since Bohemian Rhapsody, been a person he regularly text to inform of his whereabouts, because they constantly text, so it’s inevitable that it would come up in their conversation, and Ben likes asking if he had arrived safely to wherever he’s supposed to be.

He sighs, realizing that this time is going to be different. There won’t be any text coming in from the blonde, and he’s not supposed to send any, not until he has an answer. _ What answer? _ He wants to scream the question at the top of his lungs but he simply doesn’t have the energy for it. For anything at all, really. He presses delete and closes the window to yet another text he has began typing to Ben out of habit. 

But he has decided not to think about it, therefore that’s exactly what he would do. He goes about the rest of the day in concentration of mindless routine; collecting luggage, taking an Uber home, picking up dinner, calling his mom, making a list of work-related things he should do once he’s home. Not home as in the family home, but his own little place in Brooklyn that he got a couple of years ago when he decided to spend more time in New York. He was needed at home, and he wanted to be nearby and constantly around. He never got the time to properly do something to the place; it’s sparsely furnished, a bed, a couch, a TV that he barely even switched on. Nevertheless it is lived in, and it provides him with a much needed personal space whenever he needs it. He comes here to sleep, or read, or think, or work, sometimes. 

The afternoon passes by swiftly into evening, and eventually into night, as he checks the time display on his iPhone. It isn’t even that late yet, but he’s utterly exhausted and his body feels like lead, and there’s pain everywhere. The work-related list can wait. He glances once at his unopened luggage, sitting against the wall beside the TV, and he wants to stand up, get over there and unpack, but his body refuses to move.

He thinks maybe he’s coming down with something. A cold or flu, maybe even fever. He tries swallowing, and it feels like sandpaper. Yep, definitely _ something _ . He closes his eyes, but all he sees is himself and Ben, running in the rain and splashing water on the sidewalk. Soon after, they’re standing behind the door, rain water pooling around their feet, so close and gravitating towards each other and--like one of those choose-your-own-adventure books he enjoyed reading as a kid--they’re kissing in this version of the story, _ the one that didn’t happen _. It’s the one option at the end of the chapter that he didn’t pick, and it eventually brought him to this point of his little adventure where he ends up alone in his apartment in New York. 

_ Ben in London, him in New York _. It was like a premonition, when he was in London, standing shoulder to shoulder with Ben in the underground tube, and the thought had come to him at that moment out of the blue. Like a glimpse into the future where they are separated by distance and will.

Joe wants to know what kind of iron will does Ben have, that he could have done what he did and said what he said. Or maybe he already knows the answer.

Joe opens his eyes. With whatever energy he has left, he forces himself up and off the couch, so he could take some aspirin and head to bed. He’s calling it a night. Maybe he’ll wake up feeling much better, health and mood wise. Maybe he’ll wake up with answers. Maybe he’ll wake up and not feel like he had let Ben, and himself, down. Whichever way his thoughts take him, deep down, he knows he had screwed up somewhere. There’s a line somewhere that he had crossed, a very grey area he had stepped into, when and where he wasn’t supposed to. There were things he shouldn’t have done, words he shouldn’t have said, or is it the other way around? Should he had done and said more?

Two aspirin tablets and a glass of water later, he makes his way to the bedroom and gets in bed unceremoniously, lying down on his side in the darkened bedroom. Primetime for overrun feelings and bullet-train thoughts.

_ How does a friend become something-more-than-a-friend? _

He needs someone to write a how-to manual on this, or point him in the direction of one, if it exists. Because the only way he sees it, it’s too huge of a risk. Too damn high of a stake. Too _ fucking _ big of a bet. What if they break both their hearts and friendship along the way? Why can’t they remain the way they are, and nothing gets broken?

Except that it’s probably already broken. _ You kissed him back, remember? You crossed that damn line. Best friends don’t kiss each other, at least not like that. _

He swallows and there’s sand in his throat again. Damn London spring rain and Ben and all of his endless bad ideas that Joe could never say no to. Damn that inch of space between his lips and Ben’s when their foreheads touched. But the damnedest of them all, is when he kissed Ben back in the middle of Heathrow and then his throat and tongue all got tied up, trying to defend what he did. Or not wanting to admit that he did what he did. He turns to his side, away from the nightstand where his iPhone is. There’s no way he’s going to look at his phone, he knows he’s going to end up typing yet another text that he would never send. _ The least you owe him is a fucking apology, for clamming up on him when he told you he loves you _. 

But what could he possibly say? That he loves Ben too? How does he know it’s not just some kind of a feverish dream, or an amplified illusion, just because they have grown so close and comfortable with each other, just because he has grown so used to Ben’s presence in his life that he cannot imagine losing him this suddenly, just because he cares so much about him, and wants only the best things for him?

And if he really wants only the best things for Ben, then he--_ they _\--should stop ruining their friendship with confusing, muddled up emotions.

_ This is going to be painful. So fucking painful. _

Like pulling off a band-aid. Or kicking off a bad habit. Or going through a break up with someone you didn't even have in the first place. _ That’s it _ . The only person he’s having trouble being apart from for any amount of time is Ben. It has always been him. He doesn’t need Rami to always be available to hang out with, but he hovers around his consciousness like a protective shadow. He can spend a day or two, even a week without talking to Gwil, if they’re too busy. They always catch up sooner or later, and he can still tell Gwil anything and everything. But he’s having trouble breathing now, realizing how utterly alone he is, lying down on his bed, and how it hasn’t even been 24 hours yet since he last saw and talked to Ben, and _ this _\--his absence--is already making him feel hollowed out, like there’s nothing warm or substantial left in him.

Times like this, he just wants to stay in bed, and let the mattress and sheets and bedding all swallow him. _ Just disappear _. He’s so good at it, by now he should be a CIA undercover agent. Running away from all the problems in his life like a professional sprint athlete. Or one problem in particular.

_ It’s the fever talking _ , he reasons out. _ I’m going to wake up feeling much better, the days are going to get brighter, easier, less painful _. He chants it soundlessly in his head like a mantra, like a lullaby to help him fall asleep. And when he finally does fall into a fitful sleep, the kind where you keep waking up to remind yourself that you’re supposed to be sleeping, he thinks that perhaps this is one of the reasons why he is an actor--he’s so good at lying, especially to himself--and there is no guilt or remorse in admitting it.

Just a little sadness, that’s all_ . _

******

When he wakes up the room is so blindingly bright and warm--almost too hot, _ or is it him? _ His wakefulness comes like a receding tide, it keeps itself at an arm’s length away from him as he struggles to escape the heaviness in his head. There’s a persistent ringing sound coming in waves into his ears. He isn’t sure if it’s his alarm, or someone else’s, but realizing that he is in his apartment in New York, alone, he reaches an arm out and across the nightstand, feeling around for the thin, metal rectangle before grasping it in his hand and lifting it up at his eye level. 

He switches the alarm off, and remembers the reason why it is there in the first place. His mom would be expecting him to be home anytime soon. So he drags himself up and out of bed in one long, delayed movement. He would probably never admit it to anyone, but he’d very much like a hug right now. Rather than dwell on that pointless thought, he clenches both fists tight before placing them on the mattress on each of his sides, and uses them to propel himself up and standing, heaving a deep sigh. With the same focused attention he gives to putting his feet one step in front of the other, one at a time, until he reaches the bathroom and no longer feel like gravity is pulling him down, he goes about taking a warm shower. As he’s getting ready, putting on a clean and fresh-smelling change of clothes; a pair of light-coloured khaki pants and a whitewashed grey long sleeved t-shirt, he does actually feel better. Or at least that’s what he wants to believe.

He gets behind the wheel and drives in silence for once, because he could feel himself shaking slightly and therefore needs to actually concentrate on the road more than usual. When he finally enters the familiar neighbourhood, drives up and parks his car in front of the family home in Hyde Park, _ the one that wasn’t named after the one in London _, he thinks, and without any notice or warning, his mind brings him to Ben--light green eyes, full-lipped mouth opened wide laughing out loud as Joe tells another stupid joke the day they went out to eat and roam around the scenic park. The one in London. He closes his eyes and grips the steering involuntarily as he tries clearing off his mind of the memory. They took a lot of photos that day too. He wonders if they’re all still sitting in Ben’s DSLR, if he looks through them and thinks of him too. But most importantly, he wonders why he needs to think about such things.

He remains sitting in the car for a while before getting out, gathering his wits together, trying not to fall apart from the aches he could feel everywhere in his body. Then he looks at himself in the rearview mirror and confirms what he’s been suspecting all along; he looks exactly like how he feels, _ like shit _. He rubs his face a few times and thinks to himself that his mom and her home cooked food is exactly what he needs right now. Virginia always insists that he comes by whenever he’s back from a trip, if he’s not too busy, she always says, and he always shows up. She’s happy whenever she can feed him properly because she doesn’t like it when he eats outside too much as he typically does, regardless of whether he is on a trip or even at home. Once, Virginia had jokingly said that she thinks he’s allergic to his own kitchen. He didn’t disagree with her, partly because she’s his mom, therefore is always right, and partly because it’s true.

He makes his way out of the car and through the front lawn to the door. He has the keys to the house so he makes his way inside. Once the door is closed behind him, he calls out a “Mom, I’m home!” and almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. It’s hoarse and raspy, and _ painful _. He clears his throat, and is about to open his mouth again when Virginia appears from the kitchen. 

“Joey?” she’s frowning, concern and worry reflected in her face as she approaches him. “Honey, are you okay? You look--” she hugs him as he kisses her cheek. Then she quickly pulls away to put a palm on his forehead and the back of her other hand on the side of his neck, with the same frown on her face.

“I’m fine mom,” he says, putting up a feeble protest. “I’m just exhausted. Probably jetlagged too.”

“No Joey, you’re burning up!” she says very firmly before leading him inside, not to the kitchen or the dining room but to the living room. She then sits him down on the couch and Joe wants to protest, tell her it’s fine, _ he’s fine _, but sitting down on the couch does seem like a very good idea at the moment. In fact, he feels like he wants to lie down, maybe even close his eyes for a bit. So he does exactly that, and Virginia reaches out for a throw draped over the backrest of the couch, opens it wide in one swift movement and wraps the soft fabric around her son. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” she says, rubbing his arm up and down with her palm over the throw. “You’re going to lie down here for a bit while I make some soup.”

“No, mom. You don’t have to, I’ll just eat whatever you’ve made,” he opens his eyes and says in protest, but it sounds more like a half-hearted mumbling than anything else. 

“Nonsense,” she states plainly. “You have a sore throat, and the soup will do you good. You can eat the rest of the food later or tomorrow, when you’re feeling better. I made a lot and froze some up for you to bring home.” She shifts a little so she’s facing him now, and he too shifts a little so he’s more comfortable lying down on the couch. “Okay mom,” he says, sighing, although it makes him smile a little as she brushes her fingers through his hair. Okay, so maybe he can allow himself to be babied a little, only this time around, and only because he’s feeling very much under the weather at the moment. 

“Have you taken anything for this? Painkiller? Anti-allergy?”

“I did, last night.” He answers honestly.

“Okay, you need to take them again,” she says as if mentally checking a list in her head. “And drink lots of water too. I’ll make some honey lemon tea for your sore throat.”

“I can’t get out of this, can I?” Joe says in a pretense of defeat. Truth be told, he really does not have the energy to disagree with her, and deep down, he actually does want someone to take care of him right now, and who could do that better than his mom.

“No, you can’t. Now lie down and I’ll be right back.”

Virginia gets up and leaves the living room after planting a kiss on the top of his head. Almost immediately, he finds himself drifting off to sleep. It’s as if his eyes are just waiting to close itself and his entire body is anticipating this shut down since he got up about an hour earlier.

But when he does close his eyes, there seems to be only one thing that his mind would think of. Or one person.

_ He’s in Ben’s living room in London again, and the blonde is asleep, lying down on his side on the sofa. It didn’t escape his notice that it’s spacious enough for Ben to sleep comfortably on and move about in his sleep. He crouches down to adjust the throw so that it covers his sleeping figure better, and before he could stand up again, he realizes that Ben is awake. He mouths Joe’s name quietly, voice still thick with sleep and they’re so close _\--

\--Joe opens his eyes again, blinking hard. Has anyone ever tried sleeping with their eyes open yet? At this rate, he might have to try it.

Virginia enters the living room again then, a mug of something hot in her hands. He sits up. She passes the mug wordlessly to Joe and he takes it with both hands. He looks inside the mug filled with clear liquid with amber tint to it and a round slice of lemon floating on top. “No tea?” he asks, half-pouting.

“Just a hint of green tea. No black tea for you yet in this condition.”

He smiles gratefully. “Thanks mom.” Virginia smiles back at him while he blows on the hot liquid before sipping it. “Ah, perfect.”

“It’s just honey and lemon, Joey.”

“With green tea, and the ratio is perfect. Only yours tastes like this.” Virginia shakes her head even as she strokes her son’s hair like he’s five again.

“The soup is on the stove, why don’t you lie down and close your eyes for a bit in the meantime?”

Joe would laugh if he has the energy to do so. Sleep is the furthest thing on his mind right now. So he lies.

“My headache seems to be worse when I lie down and close my eyes. I’ll just sit up instead.”

“Okay,” Virginia nods, and smiles cheekily before continuing, “So, one week of fun in London with Ben and this is what you bring me as a gift?”

“Oh mom, come on,” he whines.

“Speaking of Ben, how is he doing? Did you two have a nice time together?”

“I’m sick,” he adds a pout to the whining. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” He brings the mug to his lips and sips more of the hot liquid.

“Attitude, Joseph Junior,” Virginia pretends to scold him.

Joe sighs. “He’s fine. Ben’s fine. London is fine. Everything is fine and great, mom.”

Virginia stares at her son’s reflection on the glass door of the wall cabinet standing on one corner of the living room. He looks paler than usual, and really tired. But there’s something else she could see on his face, and she recognizes this look every single time. There’s something he is clearly not telling her. Something he doesn’t want to tell anyone, for that matter. Sometimes she wishes he is not the way he is; that he does not think of his own feelings and worries as trivial compared to others. That he would, in addition to always saying yes to anyone and everyone around him, start saying yes to himself. She wished he wouldn’t be afraid of taking chances, wouldn’t be too hard on himself when and if things don’t go his way, when they’re anything less than perfect. That he would let himself go and be happy for once, and starts believing in its possibility. She lets out a soft sigh and squeezes his hand.

“Alright,” she pauses, “that’s good to know,” she continues carefully. There’s a pause as she waits if he’d say something, anything. But there’s only silence, and it’s deafening because she can sense the garbled mess in her son’s mind right now. She doesn’t know what they are exactly, and why they are there, but she _ knows _ that they’re there. She wants to untangle and sort them out like how she always does with her grandchildren’s toys around the house, but she also understands it is not her job to do that.

Instead, what she could do is to check if the chicken potato soup is ready, feed him, make sure he takes his meds, and send him to sleep off whatever he has right now in one of the rooms upstairs. She had just gotten one ready in case he’s staying over. She had turned her kids’ bedrooms into guest rooms that he or sometimes members of the family use for staying over as well as her grandkids. Truth be told, the Mazzello household is almost constantly busy with people coming and going, sometimes she even hosts kids from another state who came for an event or competition at the academy or people visiting her church from another city. And whenever that doesn’t happen, she loves having the grandkids over too, pretty frequently. She’s rarely ever alone in the house and that’s exactly how she likes it.

So when she tells him she’s going to go check the soup on the stove, she also casually mentions that Mary, Joe’s only sister, and her four-year-old daughter, Laura, will be coming over later today for dinner, and Mary will leave Laura in her care as she’s going out of town for a couple of days to represent a client. She’s an attorney. “I’m sure you’ll be here for the next couple of days too, until you’re feeling better.”

It’s not a suggestion or a question. It’s pretty much an order, and she knows he knows it. 

And the rest of the day passes by for Joe like that, in that order, and Virginia stopped asking about or mentioning Ben, which he’s grateful for. The combination of his mom’s chicken potato soup and the meds worked like magic too, he seems to have slept the entire afternoon and earlier part of the evening off. When he wakes up quite abruptly, he finds himself rather disgustingly lying down in his own sweat. He swallows and his throat feels sandy, his mouth parched. Then he blinks a few times, recalling moments before sleep took over, his mom tucking him under the covers and wondering out loud what would happen to him if she’s no longer around. 

“Who’d cook you chicken potato soup, make sure you take your meds and send you to bed like this?”

To which he replied, “Mom, I’m an adult last time I checked.” He was expecting her to come back at him with something sharp and witty that he could chuckle at, but instead there was only silence, and for one delayed, groggy moment he was worried if his mom, for once, didn’t find his snark funny. Or amusing or even annoying. He’d gladly take it. But not pitiful or sad. Not that.

“You know, Joey,” when she spoke her voice was nothing but soft and kind, exactly the way he feared it would sound like. “Adult or not, everyone needs to be loved and be taken care of like this.” 

He wanted to speak, to say something, but his throat felt tight and dry and _ it hurts _. Besides, he had no good comeback to that. Nothing funny or witty. And nothing he could say that wasn't the truth, nothing worth saying out loud. He could also feel himself drifting in and out between consciousness and sleep more rapidly then, and soon fell fast asleep.

His sleep was long and dreamless. No haunting recollections of London. No Ben. He woke up feeling a lot better, considering how awful he felt prior, so he decided to take a shower and put on a fresh change of clothes.

When he goes downstairs he’s greeted by Laura who immediately ran towards him for a hug, and as he scoops her up with both hands and lifts her up, she begins laughing, clear and tinkling like little bells, and it makes him feel even better now. _ A whole lot better _, as a matter of fact. He joins his mom and Mary for dinner and spends the rest of the evening talking and catching up on family matters while Laura refuses to be anywhere far from her uncle Joey, sitting on his lap, warm and cozy and full from the good food that grandma made. It doesn’t take her very long to start nodding off and eventually fall asleep, comfortably nestled in her uncle’s arms, holding the sleeve of Joe’s t-shirt tightly in her fist, and the arm of her plush bunny in the other.

He probably would have let her sleep for as long as she would, and he’d be happy to hold her like this the entire night if he has to. Except that he’s feeling the exhaustion and remnants of the fever catching up on him now, and he needs to sleep it off again. He took the meds after dinner too, and they’ve started working, making him slightly drowsy.

“Put her in my room,” Virginia says quietly, as he gets up, carrying the sleeping girl in his arms. Mary gets up and kisses her daughter on her cheek and forehead, one hand gently smoothing her hair. “I’ll see you two in two days,” she says to Laura, who is fast asleep, before looking up to Joe, smiling. “You take care now, silly.”

“You too, doofus.” He’s smiling as his sister presses their cheeks together in a brief half-hug. “Now if you’ll excuse me, let me tuck this little princess in bed before I pass out myself.”

He makes his way upstairs and into the master bedroom steadily in soft, soundless steps and pulls the comforter up to make room before setting Laura down gently on the sheets. As he pulls the comforter over and around her and her plush bunny, she finds his hands and tug at a sleeve with one hand before opening her eyes slightly.

“Uncle Joey.”

“Yes sweetheart.”

“Has mommy left for work?”

“Yeah, just about to.”

She nods once, closes her eyes and then opens them again.

“Will you stay with me until mommy comes back?”

“Of course I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

She smiles happily, and that’s all that he needs to see right now. He pictures the next few days at home with Virginia and Laura, doing mundane things around the house, playing and watching cartoon, colouring in her book and sitting around in grandma’s kitchen waiting for treats. Napping in the afternoon and going out for ice cream later. Setting up a blanket tent at night and picking a book for bedtime story. He expects to fully recover from whatever fever and silliness he’s having right now, and forgetting that the rest of the world exists for a little. Maybe he’ll survive not looking at his mobile phone for the next few days. Maybe that’s exactly what he needs.

“Do you want to see my colouring book tomorrow?”

“Sure. Can I colour some too?”

Laura pauses for a while, thinking. “Okay, you can colour Hans.” 

“Hans? But he’s a baddie,” Joe protests. “Can’t I colour someone nice?”

Laura sighs. “Fine, you can colour Kristoff. He’s nice. And blonde, like your best friend.”

“My best friend?” he asks with a slight frown. He’s puzzled for exactly half a second. And then he gets it. His _ best friend _. The family lunch. Of course.

“Yeah. Mommy said you just got back from London. Can I go there too next time?”

Joe hides his grimace behind a forced smile. “Uh-huh,” he gives a vaguely affirmative answer. Of course he just had to be reminded of the very person he’s trying to forget. Of course the universe works like that. And now he’s left thinking about the scarf Ben gave his mom on that day, and how she joked about making him part of the family. He didn’t give it much thought then, but suddenly it made him wonder about a lot of things.

“Can I see Ben there? I like him. He talks like everyone in Peppa Pig.”

So apparently this is how much the universe hates him. He’s sure Laura would watch Peppa Pig among other cartoons she loves tomorrow, and for the next few days, and he will not be able to sit through it without thinking about Ben now. Great. Maybe he’ll convince her to watch Thomas and Friends instead. Or Ben and Holly’s Little Kingdom. No, that wouldn’t do either, Ben is one of the main characters, and Holly’s _ best friend _\--

“Did you have a fight with Ben?”

Joe doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “No,” he says with a serious expression on his face instead. “Of course not. Why would you say that in the first place?”

“Oh, good.” Laura nods. “Sometimes when mommy is upset with daddy she wouldn’t answer me if I talk about him. That’s why.”

He doesn’t know whether he should be alarmed that Laura is picking up things like this in her parents’ behaviour, or the fact that she thinks of him and Ben in relation to her mom and dad. Or maybe his brain is just overthinking this, as usual. Whatever it is, he probably has to mention this to Mary one of these days. Minus the comparison, of course.

“I think it’s time for you to go to bed now,” he tells her, changing the topic. Laura sighs as Joe tucks the comforter more snugly around her even as she turns to lie on her side.

She agrees with a yawn. “Good night, uncle Joey.” She smiles sleepily at him and he smiles back at her lovingly. It’s impossible not to love and marvel at her sometimes. Although she’s the same age as Matt, John’s firstborn, she’s perceptibly more mature and sensitive to her surroundings and the people around her. She’s also the absolute favourite of her late grandfather.

“Good night, princess,” he tells her, kissing her once on her cheek, before surprising her by planting several more kisses on the same spot on her cheek. She laughs as she hides her face in the pillow. “Go away, uncle Joey!” she says in between laughter and Joe laughs too, standing up and making his way to the bedroom door.

He leaves the door ajar as he sees Laura going back to lying down on her sides, eyes closed. Then he takes out his iPhone to check for the time, and immediately regrets it. It’s about 10pm now, which means it’s 3am right now in London, and he wonders if Ben is asleep--

\--until he tells himself to stop wondering. Or thinking about Ben. He listens for his mom’s or sister’s voice downstairs, but the house seems completely silent. So he makes his way to his bedroom--after all it was his bedroom when he was a lot younger, anyway--and decides he wouldn’t suffer through another mention or question about Ben from another person, in case his mom catches him at the hallway. And as an afterthought, he puts his phone into silent mode, and wishes not to at least hear its notification going off or ringing for at least a couple of days._ Or at least not tonight _.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be posted earlier, as Allie thought she'd gift this chapter to herself for her birthday, but as luck has it, this week was (and still is) one of the busiest weeks so far this year, so she got a birthday fic from Nadia instead, which legit made her tear up reading it first thing in the morning. That (and the fact that I feel so weird talking about myself in third person lol) aside, please do let us know what do you think of this chapter, and if you feel Joe as much as we do!
> 
> Also, jsyk, the scene where Laura is sitting on Joe's lap was written before the video of Joe being overrun by his nephew and nieces was posted, and can you imagine how much we screamed (I cried) at that video (although it's not exactly the same, let's face it, anything that has Joe and his nieces or nephew in it just makes you go suddenly incoherent)!


	10. Sound off the alarms, I'm all alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We didn't die or abandon this! And just in time before Hardzello Week, two chapters back to back!

When he wakes up to the sun shining half of his bed bright Joe tells himself he doesn’t miss New York’s weather at all. It was wet and grey, rained-on pavements and all monochrome colours, buildings covered with smoke, and it had done nothing to help improve Joe’s mood. The sky was dull and covered in a misty cloud, it wrapped the sun in its grey embrace and dimed its shine, and it’s a pretty accurate description of how he was feeling the entire time he was there.

Which is why he’s more than happy to be in sunny LA again. He’d spent the last two weeks or so in New York with family and friends, met up with Lucy and Rami, among others, and none of it has done anything to dull the ache in his heart and fill in the empty space there. If anything, New York reminded him too much of London, and it wasn’t just doing him any good whatsoever. As if it’s not enough that not a day passed by that he didn't find himself thinking or dreaming of Ben. Or both.

Isn’t it all so perfectly ironic that the more he tries to avoid it, his mind always circles back to the same thing. The same person. The same question. 

What the hell happened in London?

Well if he’s going to do this again, should he start with how Ben's face lit up the moment he spotted him coming through the arrival gate? He doesn't like to admit it, but he knows every single expression Ben makes with each emotional change, he has them memorized. To say he was positively overjoyed to see him was probably a gross understatement. He was _ fucking _ glowing. 

Or maybe that was just him. Maybe Ben has always been _ fucking glowing _ in his eyes, and that's just one thing in a long list of other things he wouldn’t like to admit. At this point, it's hard to tell. They did everything they’ve always done, the same way--sharing a bed, walking side by side bumping shoulders, talking late into the night until one of them (usually Ben) falls asleep, making fun of each other and laughing until they double over, sitting so close they're basically cuddling on the couch while poring over a script or a book or talking about nothing and everything at the same time while scrolling through their phones, annoying each other by either being a smart ass or asking one trillion questions (that's Ben)--and yet, nothing felt quite the same anymore. Or rather, everything felt _ a little more _ than the way they used to--the stares longer, the silences heavier, the touches more lingering--and Joe found himself more often than not, second guessing himself where things used to be easier and simpler and didn’t require much thinking through.

Like that night he was telling Ben about Third Eye Blind, him sitting up on the bed, facing Ben with his legs crossed and Ben lying down, all tucked in and sleepy-eyed. He even had his eyes closed for most of the conversation. Joe didn't even know what it was when he started feeling like he wanted to reach out and run the tips of his fingers along the contour of his face, his hairline and bury them into his blonde locks. He imagined Ben would hum contentedly and snuggle deeper into the pillow, and he recalled suddenly feeling like kissing his temple and watching him sleep, and the thought made him excuse himself to get up from the bed and away from Ben. _ This _ , he thought as he ran the tap and let the water fill up the clear glass in his hand, _ whatever this is _ , _ isn't making any sense whatsoever. _

What had changed, and why?

He might or might not have noticed his hand shaking a little as he placed the glass in the sink, after drinking half of its content and dumping the rest down the drain. He was thinking to go back to bed and lie down, but at the same time all he wanted to do was to stay away, preferably as far as possible from Ben’s bed, and bedroom. But if he did, then it would be as bad, or even worse, than admitting that he has more than just platonic feelings towards Ben. Does he have them? Does this mean he’s in love with his previous Bohemian Rhapsody castmate, current best friend, Ben Hardy?

Of course not. _ Of course not, you idiot_.

He chuckled silently to himself, head hanging low between his two outstretched arms on either side of the sink. He shook his head a few times, as if shaking this very thought off and away from his mind. And just to prove how absurd this _ non-existent _ thought really was, he told himself that he's going to walk the short distance right through the hallway, towards the bedroom, and lie down on the bed beside Ben, and go to sleep. Easy. Just because he could see how the way Ben looked at him had gradually changed over the course of the year, it didn't mean anything. They have grown closer, is all. So close that he hates to see Ben unhappy and lonely; he would do anything for him, make sure he’s okay, never let him out of his mind or sight. Which was why he came to London in the first place.

** _You sure about that, buddy? Isn’t it because you miss him the moment he flew back to London after spending two whole months with you in LA?_ **

Joe doesn’t like arguing with himself. This voice in his head, it knows how to outsmart him, every single time.

** _And he’s not a kid. You don’t need to babysit him._ **

_ I know, and I’m not, _ he tells himself _ . It’s just that, I— _

** _\--love him?_ **

He took another deep breath and steadied himself standing in front of the kitchen table top, hands on either side of the sink.

_ Stop. Just--stop. _

It was late by the time he made his way back to the bedroom. Ben would have fallen asleep immediately after he left, he’s sure of it. Earlier, he looked like he was half a second away from slumber anyway and was just staying awake to humour Joe, who didn’t know when to stop blabbering on and on about one of his favourite bands.

And he was right. Ben was deeply asleep as he entered the room. He took a deep breath and lay down beside the sleeping man. He was careful not to make any noise or careless movement, but wasn’t too stealthy about it either. It wasn’t the first time they had shared a bed, not the first time Ben had slept first while he was still up doing any number of things he was doing before finally falling asleep. Joe doesn’t fall asleep easily. Especially not when his mind is running at a dangerous speed like this, thinking about things he didn’t want to think about. Or perhaps specifically, a person. Who just happen to also be sleeping beside him, soft breaths like whispers coming in time with the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

The room was quiet, the night was long and still, but his heart was a room with a raging storm trapped inside. There’s loud white noise in his ears, a contrast to the silence of the room and how peaceful Ben looks asleep, his boyish features accentuated by the pale dimness of the room. He looked as if made from marble, all smooth, cool lines, so skilfully carved, _ so beautiful_. Funny how he has always thought of Ben this way, he’s just beautiful, in every way, inside and out, even as he found himself inching closer to the edge of his pillow, right before the almost unseen space between where his pillow ends, and where Ben’s begins. He stopped himself short then, just an inch away from where his lips could have ended up—on Ben’s lips—and closed his eyes, as he froze, and clenched his fists tight. 

_ Falling in love with your best buddy, what a devious little concept_. It creeps up on you when you least expect it, it blindfolds you, disguising itself as this harmless little feeling of care and concern that you have for this one person, until one day you realize that this feeling has completely engulfed you; its wires winding over every inch of and around your broken and crooked heart and you can’t _ untangle _ yourself from it.

Does he love Ben, then? He takes a deep breath. What does that even mean? If he has the blonde constantly on his mind, thinking about how he is doing and if he is getting on fine--which Joe thinks he does, he saw the pictures from Fashion Week where he attended and modelled for Balmain--does that mean he loves him? If he cares about how he feels, if he doesn’t like to be without him, if he misses him and sometimes think about kissing him--does he love him more than a friend?

Joe doesn’t know if he should be alarmed that he’s getting used to these monologues and recollections of his stay in London playing incessantly in his head for the past two weeks that they’re becoming his constant companion at whatever time of the day, wherever he is and whatever he’s doing. He’s in fact getting ready to start his day now, he’s done showering and is putting on his clothes, and having conversation with that pesky little voice in his head about Ben.

** _Are you going to call him today?_ **

_ Oh come on, you know the answer to this question. _

** _How many unfinished, unsent texts do you have in your drafts?_ **

_ Too many to count. _

** _Don’t you want to know how is he doing?_ **

_ Saw the pictures from Fashion Week. He’s doing fine. He must be busy with work. _

** _You are a goddamn stubborn bastard._ **

_ I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks. _

** _Don’t you miss him?_ **

_ I do. _

Joe takes a deep breath as he takes his phone and slips it into his pants pocket without looking at it. He walks towards the door.

_ I miss him so much, sometimes I feel like I’ll die from the pain alone. _

** _But you won’t._ **

_ Yeah, and that’s the tragic part. And neither is the hurt dying anytime soon, too. _

** _Unless--_ **

_ There is no unless. I love him, are you happy now? Probably love him too much for my own good and I wouldn’t let myself ruin this for both of us. _

** _You don’t even know if that’s what’s going to happen._ **

_ Don’t I? It’s too early and I’m too sober to be having this conversation right now, so shut the fuck up, will you? _

Joe hums ‘_ Good Morning, Heartache _’ under his breath as he makes his way out of his house and towards his car. He has a long day ahead of him, all meetings and trying to get things to move and pick up where he left them. No time to be thinking of a certain blonde he left in the city miles away from LA, with an ocean between them.

But if there’s one thing Joe did not expect from LA, is that it would actually work against him by conjuring memories of him and Ben in the city. He almost cursed at himself loudly the moment he went driving up Santa Monica and all he could see was him and Ben, in his car, him always driving and Ben riding shotgun, listening to songs and talking about them or _ just talking_. About anything at all. And laughing. He always seems to be smiling and laughing around the younger man. Which is not surprising, really. Being with Ben makes him happy. It got him through the worst year of his life. _ The year he lost his father_. And when he looks outside, there’s them walking along the sidewalk, talking and smiling, laughing, shoulders bumping. 

_ Don’t tell me this is going to be the second worst year of my fucking life _. He has barely gotten through a week, and this morning was one of those times in the week when he again thought about if he could ever live and breathe around LA the same way again without Ben. 

After all the blonde did spend two months with him there, and it filled the city with their ghosts, him and Ben, lingering in places they have been to, doing the most mundane things. Has the younger man always look at him like that, with his beaming green eyes? And whenever he made Ben laugh, or vice versa, it looked like they were clinging to each other, as if they were the only ones who exist in each other’s eyes. Their ghosts haunt every inch of LA, and Joe feels like that kid in ‘The Sixth Sense’. Only that it’s not dead people he sees, only memories overrun with feelings that just refuse to die and go away.

So it has been the longest _ fucking _ week in his _ fucking _ life, filled with days which he tried cramming with as much work as possible, evenings attempting to go out to have a semblance of normalcy in his social life, and nights failing to fall asleep. And alcohol. He’s not a drunkard, and he is almost certainly not getting drunk or ruining his liver, he’s just sitting here in Cascabel, sipping on something alcoholic that he has forgotten exactly what as one part of his brain is navigating this light-hearted conversation with the nice people sitting in front of him right now, and another part is thinking about Ben and the dark blue sweater he wore that day when they went out to eat at Cascabel one last time before he left for London.

He didn’t know it then, but looking back, they were trying not to finish going through that last evening before Ben has to take the early morning flight back to London the next day. They had just returned from Catalina, and they were going through photos they took there, including the ones Dennis took and sent to them. True to fashion, there were lots of silly ones. But their selfies have recently taken a calmer pattern; Ben likes standing a little to Joe’s left side and behind him, leaning closer to the side of his face as Joe snapped the photo. They would both smile. Not the goofy kind, but the kind that makes it impossible for Joe to take his eyes off of the photo. He has never thought it is possible to miss a person this much in his entire life before, it’s making him feel like he either wants to stand up and start throwing things at the wall or get this dinner over and done with so he could go home and get properly drunk and sleep it off.

** _Or you could call Ben_ ** _ . _

_ Oh fuck off. _

** _No, fuck you. Go home and call him, you fucking coward_ ** _ . _

He’s been out and about since early morning, he’s tired, he misses Ben and he’s staring at his phone now, scrolling through his list of chats. He presses Ben’s name and the chat window opens. It has been more than three weeks since their last text, it was on the day that they were out at Hyde Park and Ben had gone to the washroom while he continued roaming the area. Ben had texted, ‘_ Hey, where are u? _ ’ and before he could type a reply, another one of Ben’s came in. ‘ _ Saw you. Wait. Coming _.’ 

Joe thinks he could still see the way how Ben ran up to him that day, smiling, and he hates him so much right now, he starts typing without realizing.

_ Wish you could run up to me right now so I can tell you how much I hate you _. 

He curses under his breath.

_ I miss you. So much. _

** _This is so fucking pathetic, really_ **.

He deletes everything and locks the screen so it turns black. Then he flips it over for good measure. _ There _. He is about to look up, engaging himself with the conversation currently happening at the table, and that’s how he almost misses it when the display of his phone lights up again, its brightness spilling over the rectangle frame and reflected against the dark navy blue tablecloth.

Truth be told, he almost doesn’t want to look at his phone. Whoever it is, can wait. After all, he is never the sort of company who would look at their phone rather than holding a conversation with the people he is actually with at any given time.

But it could be an emergency. It could be his mom. Or it could be anyone, really. He supposes there is no harm in checking who is it anyway. So he flips the phone and looks at the green phone icon dancing erratically across the screen, wanting him to pick up the call.

********

Ben sits on his couch with his laptop on his knees and plugs in his camera to download some photos. The memory card got full at some point during his recent trip to France for a fashion show so he decided this was a good moment as any to do the mindless task of copying and pasting files from the card to his computer. It was only a few days ago that he came back from this trip and he’s been busy ever since; invited to this and that event in London, attending them with friends and frankly, he was relieved. Being busy meant not thinking too much. He really didn’t want that, he was about to go mad. That’s exactly why he begged his agent to find him anything to do. Usually he’s not the biggest fan of fashion events and appearances that have nothing to do with acting but now he was willing to do anything and everything that would get him out and far away from his house as possible. Far away from London, even. 

The first week after Joe left, he was just miserable, constantly wondering how he could have been so bloody daft and delusional as the days passed and Joe still wasn’t calling. He stared and stared at his phone for hours on end without doing anything, just dismissing every other notification that would come in and wishing and waiting as he replayed the previous week over and over again in his mind. Waking up next to Joe every day and making him breakfast, walking around London together and taking photos, dinners at both nice or chain restaurants. Jokes and laughs and longing looks and that-- _ fucking _ kiss. He hasn’t felt this stupid in a very long time, if ever, and every time he thinks about the kiss, he closes his eyes shut tightly as if that would prevent him from replaying the scene. As if that simple action would erase Joe’s inexpressive eyes as he poured his heart out to him in the middle of the bloody airport. 

He had lost count of how many times he laid in bed covered up to his head with the bed sheets, as if they would shield him from the memories, and how empty it all seems now. There was a moment, or maybe more than one but he’s not counting, that he could sense a tear creeping up on him at the thought and whenever that happened, and he’s not saying it happened more than once, but whenever it did, he would remove himself from the situation. Stand up, lit a cigarette, drink something, eat something, play some video games, watch something, cook, go for a run or just whatever. It’s not like Ben thinks men shouldn’t cry, none of that bullshit, no. But he’s terrified that if he does, if he just lets go, he won’t be able to stop and pick himself up. He feels too utterly fucking alone to do that. 

The only thing he can hope for now is that Joe isn’t calling because he’s thinking about it, about _ him _ , about _ them _ . That it wasn’t all in his head, that there was actually _ something _ there, that it wasn’t just him. But as the days go by, the fact that it might have been just him and his illusion and his hope, it’s starting to really hunt him. _ What if I lost him, for good? _He isn’t ready for that, and he’s afraid he will never be, no matter how much time has and will continue to pass.

By the end of that week, and even though he barely left his house, Ben was exhausted and in dire need to get himself to do something, anything. Luckily for him his agent suggested he should attend these fashion events in France for an up and coming brand that was doing a show for a good cause, so he accepted without a second thought. But before all that, Gwil was back from Australia and insisted they had to meet for lunch. And that was a bit of a disaster, if anything. 

He tried, he really did. Gwil chose a nice place for them to eat so he put on his best face and a nice outfit, and it actually made him feel good and a bit uplifted and he had missed the tall man after all so he was glad to see him and couldn’t wait to hear all about the press tour for his last movie. It did in fact start just like that. Gwil gushed about his new co-stars and how beautiful the setting of the movie was in Australia and Ben played along with their usual banter and pretended to be jealous like all of them do every time someone from the gang gets a new job. But, as expected, the conversation came to a point where Gwil started asking about Joe. He wasn’t so much curious about what they were up to while he was there as much as he was curious about what Joe was doing now that he was back home. _ “He’s been kind of MIA on the group chat, which it’s rather weird coming from him of all people.” _ Ben makes a half-ass attempted at shrugging the situation off but Gwil insists so it surprises even himself when he spits out a bitter _ "I don't know what Joe does all the time, I'm not his babysitter" _ and instantly regrets it. It wasn't meant to be said out loud and now Gwil has a million questions he wants to ask, he really does and he's going to ask them all so Ben sits up straight quickly and clears his throat and tries to give him some kind of excuse so he mutters a _ "I'm sure he's back working on that project he's been talking about for a while. You know how he is when he's working." _

To change the subject completely and away from Joe, Ben asks about Dana and the wedding and Gwil forgets all about the American and lits up like Carnaby Street on Christmas while gushing on about his fiancée and all their plans for the future. It was a good plan in theory, changing the subject to Gwil’s successful love life, but now he's left thinking about marriage and love and something sinks deep into his gut and he's suddenly not hungry anymore and wants to get out of there. Go back home. _ Maybe even call him. _

But he does neither. 

Now, two weeks later, he’s back in London once more. It scares him a little that he’s starting to get used to that awful feeling of coming back to the emptiness of his home as if the feeling was something that’s always there waiting for him to welcome him home. Or maybe it’s not the house what feels empty but him, and the feeling only intensifies whenever he’s here alone with just his thoughts to accompany him, which aren’t the best company at the moment, haven’t been for the past three weeks. 

He lights a cigarette and, on the couch arm rest, he sets his trusty ashtray that right now is full of cigarette butts. He’s been smoking a lot more lately, it soothes him for about five whole minutes, maybe ten if he takes his time. Ben inhales the first few drags as he watches the files move from the camera folder to the newly created “April 2019” while photos start appearing one by one turning from that slightly translucent shade to full colored small thumbnail pictures. They’re moving in descendant order, the last ones he took appearing first and as it reaches the last few of the bunch, he starts to see the pictures he took in London while Joe was there. He shuts his eyes tight and pinches his brow between his thumb and ring finger with the same hand he’s holding his cigarette. _ Right. _ He whispers. _ How did I not think of this? _ Behind his closed eyes, he remembers every single one of the pictures they took, he doesn’t even have to look at them. That’s why, when the computer makes a _ ding _ sound letting him know the process has been completed and he opens his eyes, ready to unplug everything and close the computer shut, possibly to never touch it again, something catches his attention. 

In the midst of the many photos taken in London by him of the city, Joe and both of them together, there are a few pictures of himself. Ones he did not take. 

Ben shifts on the couch, sitting up straight and at the same time takes a long drag of his cigarette while his eyes fix on one particular photo. He leaves the cigarette on the ashtray next to him and opens the file to take a better look, even though he already knows exactly when and where the picture was taken. He was asleep with his head resting on his arms on the dining table. He remembers dozing off that day while he waited for Joe to retrieve his wallet that he had forgotten when they left to have lunch before noon. It was the same day he had gone for a run at an ungodly hour in the morning to clear his head, the same day he-- 

He shakes the memory away and closes the picture back to the folder. He continues looking at the photos that he didn't take. And they were all _ him _. His profile, his smile. Him doing mundane things around his house, ordering coffee, looking at something at a store. He looks at them again and again and again. Not out of vanity, no. Although, there’s something about the photos that make him feel like he’s never been captured in that way before. But Ben can’t just quite get it. 

Why? Why did Joe take these pictures? Why did he take them without him knowing? And without telling him. _ And why hasn’t he bloody called yet then? _

Ben sighs once. Twice. Three times and it feels like he's trying to catch his breath. Like he’s trying to breath under water. And he’s failing. And he’s drowning. 

He looks at his phone on the coffee table in front of him beyond his computer and that urge to call Joe wash over him again. The first time he wanted to call Joe was three weeks ago, in panic, about 10 hours after that _ fucking kiss _ at Heathrow. Joe would have arrived by then, would have collected his luggage, maybe making his way across the airport to head home. About the time when he would usually text him. Only that it would be him calling Joe this time. He would tell him he wanted to take it back. Ask Joe to forget about it. All of it. And just stay friends. He didn't do it, not that time, not a few days later when Joe still hadn't called and he started to panic again. _ What if he doesn't call at all? _

Every single day for the past three weeks there was at least one moment where he stared at his phone and wished it would just ring and it would be Joe on the other end. And he didn’t even care what he had to say, he really didn’t, he would even settle with Joe telling him how much he hates him as long as he gets to hear his voice. If Joe called him to tell him he wants to just be friends then he'll take that, he'll take anything. But the phone never rings and the silence leaves Ben regretting _ every bloody thing _. 

Nevertheless, what’s done is done and he should start realizing that this is his reality now. He chose to make his move, take his shot and he knew this could be one of the possible outcomes and he risked it all anyway. It’s his own doing, he’s responsible for it and Joe has every right to not want to talk to him, although he couldn’t deny that he had hoped Joe wouldn’t do that. That maybe their friendship would survive this but apparently, it isn’t the case. He fucked up, royally too and he has no one to blame but himself for letting his hopes get the best of him and let himself be tricked into thinking Joe felt the same way about him too.

This is possibly going to be the worst and hardest break up he’s ever been through and even worse because he’s never even really had Joe in the first place. It’s so stupid and ridiculous and hard to explain how he misses something he didn’t even have. 

Ben sits straight on the sofa, eyes still fixed on his phone as he unplugs the camera from the computer and puts both aside on the coffee table, then finally grabs his phone and looks for a contact. He dials. 

_ “Hey mate, sorry about the time. Can you talk?” _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are so sorry about the wait. We really hope you guys are still there and interested in this little story!  
Ch11 is coming right up. Tell us what you think in the comments please!


	11. If you love me, won't you say something?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I'm gonna say is, this is possibly one of my favorite chapters.  
A little warning, change of POV midway and lots and lots of dialogue and feelings.

_ Jesus, Ben, why do you always have to go from 1 to 100 in a split second? You’re not a bloody Ferrari. _

The streets of the suburban neighborhood are dimly lit by a few street lamps as he stumbles back home, drunk, so late into the night is almost morning. Meanwhile, Ben recalls Andy’s words after he told him he kissed Joe right before he boarded the plane back to New York. 

He called his friend several hours ago, when he found in his camera those photos Joe took of him, and he’s been binge drinking at a bar with Andy ever since, completely confused and, honestly, a little bit irritated and frustrated as well. But Andy wasn’t wrong. It’s true that he has as much chill as a hot summer day when it comes to getting what he wants. And when it comes to work, that’s actually a virtue but this time, it blew up in his face. 

_ Honestly, I think you're both being idiots. _ Andy said and Ben thinks maybe he should've stayed home binge drinking alone but deep down he knows he called Andy for a reason. He needs to stop listening to himself and listen to someone else instead. Have someone else's perspective. Ben knows Andy is not going to sugar coat anything for him or tell him what he wants to hear. He'll be honest and he'll tell him the truth even if it's a hard pill to swallow. _ Look, if this was some fling that isn't calling you back I'd tell you to take the hint and move on. But it's not. He's your friend. If he wasn't interested he would have called you to tell you so, don't you think? He clearly is going through something. Don't you think if that's the case then you should go through it together? _

Andy is making some great points but all Ben's drunk self-pitying ass can think to say is that if he was going through something, he should have called and said so and Andy gets mad. 

_ I'm sorry, are you five? Of course he should call but you could've called him too. If this is how things are going to be between you two maybe you should consider very carefully if this is a type of relationship you want to have because I thought you didn't want that for you. Two people fighting to keep their pride intact. _

And he's right. He's absolutely right. That's something he always makes a point not to do in a relationship but for some reason he's doing it now. And he knows the reason. He's scared. He's scared of Joe's answer. He's scared of losing him but he's doing exactly that right now by not reaching out. 

Once he's at his door and after a few tries he manages to open the door and stumble inside, he reaches for his phone as he walks straight to his bedroom. He doesn't have a plan once again so the first thing that comes to mind is to text Joe. Maybe ease into it. He sits down legs crossed on his bed and has to scroll down a bit to look for Joe's conversation now, when it used to be usually on top of everyone else's. With shaky hands, he opens it and stares at it. The last text there in the chat is his own. He had gone to the loo the day they were out in Hyde Park and when he got out, he didn’t see Joe at first. ‘_ Hey, where are u? _ ’ he texted but as soon as he did and looked up he saw him again and quickly texted one more time. ‘ _ Saw you. Wait. Coming _.’ and sprinted towards him, almost as if it was a sacrilege to miss those seconds away from the redhead. He stares at the texts for a while and thinks about how much he wants to go back in time to that exact same moment and tell that Ben to not kiss Joe at Heathrow. Or get a cab back from the city after the tube ride because it's going to rain. Or at the very least, to not stand completely drenched, forehead pressed against Joe's thinking about kissing him. But he can't do that. It all happened. There's not time machine to fix anything in the past but he could try and fix things right now. 

As he's staring at the screen he suddenly sees that _ Joe Mazzello is typing… _ and he's about to drop the phone flat on the mattress the same way his heart just dropped to the bottom of his gut. He watches this for a while but nothing happens. Not a text message comes in. Nothing. 

He flops down on the bed and turns on his side like he's done so many times for the past three weeks staring at his phone, but now he knows Joe is on the other side staring too. He wonders what he's doing. Why is he hesitating about texting him? What does he want to say? 

_ Come on. Just send it. _ He tells his phone. But nothing. 

_ Last seen 5:07 a.m _

Screw it. 

He finds Joe’s name in his list of contacts, and presses call.

When he puts the phone to his ear, he can barely hear the tone because his heart is pounding so loud in his ears that he thinks it's about to just stop functioning right now. The seconds go by like years and he has to resist the urge to hang up because it's suddenly hard to breathe.

And then, the line connects. There's silence and a little bit of hesitance and then he hears it for the first time in three weeks. Joe's voice.

“Ben?” 

Ben closes his eyes shut for a second, bracing himself for _ something _. Maybe his heart or his lungs would fail him now. But they don’t, and he’s still on the phone, and there’s Joe on the other end of the line. So he says the first thing that comes to his mind.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop just typing but not sending it to me.”

Joe curses under his breath, but Ben could hear it anyway, and Joe knows it.

“_ I hate you _, do you know that?”

He expects nothing less. “If it’s any consolation, I hate myself too.”

Joe lets out a heavy sigh, clear and audible. At the end of the line, all the way in LA, he mumbles an excuse so he can leave the table and the people he’s with, and go outside to the patio in front of Cascabel, and continue making his way to the side of the restaurant, on the streets. This damned place. He wouldn’t do this normally, leave a table to pick up a call. When he’s with a group of people they usually have his fullest attention.

“What time is it there now?” he asks as he steps outside and into the cold night air. 

“5am, more or less.” Ben’s voice is raspier than usual, he’s even slurring his words a little, or trying hard not to. It’s also very late and he’s still awake, which means he’s probably drunk too. Joe closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, near the space between his eyes. He hates that he knows the younger man too well. He hates that he could picture him clearly, half-sitting and lying down, either on his sofa or bed--all flushed cheeks, heavy-lidded eyes and messy blonde locks. 

“Just--go to bed, Ben.”

“Are you outside?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Cascabel,” he says, and slowly, as if to himself, “where else.”

“Late dinner?”

“With a bunch of people, yes. Look, if you’re just gonna ask me stupid, mundane things like this--”

“Tell me, what were you gonna say,” he pauses. “In your text.”

Joe resists the urge to scream or curse, or both. “Doesn’t matter. It’s nothing.” His tone is sharp.

“_T_ _ ell me _ .” He sounds half pleading, half demanding, maybe even a little desperate. _ Definitely drunk _.

“No. I wasn’t supposed to text you, remember?” He hopes Ben could hear the sarcasm. No, he knows he can.

“Fuck that.”

“You’re drunk.”

“And you hate me.”

_ No, I miss you _. The words are on the tip of his tongue, and he forces them to stay there.

“Joe.”

Or maybe he does hate Ben after all. Especially the way he says his name. He doesn’t even realize that he’s clutching the phone in his hand so tightly right now, while his other is clenched in a fist.

“Yeah.”

“I miss you.”

“Really?” he could hear his voice rising a little, so he brings it down a notch again. “That’s not fair.”

“I know--and for what it’s worth, Joe--I truly am sorry.”

“What exactly are you sorry about, Ben?”

“I'm sorry I couldn't deal with this on my own and dragged you along with me.”

“Don’t apologize if you’re just going to forget about it tomorrow.”

“No, I won’t,” he says quickly. “I promise I won’t.” 

And just like that, Joe’s heart breaks a little. He doesn’t even know why he is so angry right now. Or if he’s just angry at himself instead. But what he says next doesn’t betray his sarcasm from earlier.

“I guess we’ll see.”

He can hear Ben sigh, and when he speaks again, his voice shakes a little. “Right, I’ll leave you to it, then.” There’s a pause before he says, “Goodnight, Joe.”

But Joe doesn’t miss a beat. “Don’t you dare hang up on me, Benjamin.” Did he sound desperate? Does he even care if he did? “Just--let me listen to your voice for a while.” He almost did not say it. But he did, and now there’s a prolonged silence on the line that is killing him a little.

“Ben?”

“Yeah.”

“You still there?”

“Yeah, I just--you wanted to hear my voice?”

Joe doesn’t answer. “Can we please stop this and start talking again, please?”

“Stop what?” He sounds tired and confused, and Joe doesn’t blame him for it, not even a little bit.

“Stop this _ misery _ of not talking to each other.”

“But I can’t,” Ben says in a tone that tells Joe he’s being ridiculous for even asking him to stop. “I need to know if I can have all of you--or not.”

“All of me? Jesus, Ben. What does that even mean?”

“It means exactly that. I want to know if I can have you not only as a friend.”

“And what happens if by doing this, you lose me instead, and I lose you?”

“No, you won’t. You’ll always have me, Joe.” He pauses. “Is that what’s happening? Am I losing you?”

“You kissed me and then told me not to text or call. What do you think?”

There’s a pause before Ben speaks again. “I don’t know what to think anymore. That’s why I called you.”

“I don’t know what to think anymore either. Isn’t what you have of me enough?”

“We’re friends, Joe. What I have of you is a friend. But I--”

“You want more,” Joe finishes the sentence for him, recalling what Ben told him at the airport.

"Yeah, I do. Why can’t I have more? Tell me why can’t I have more. And why--why did you come to London on such a short notice? Why did you care so much? Why did you want to sleep and wake up in my bed? Why did you sit in my kitchen singing jazz songs to me and letting me sip wine from your glass like--like that?” He pauses, seemingly defeated by his own words. As if he’s running out of his breath. And the worst thing is Joe knows exactly what he’s talking about. He sees it clear as day in his mind, one particular late morning in London, Ben making his mean scrambled eggs and toast in the kitchen when it’s practically nearly noon, and him opening a bottle of red wine they bought the day before and pouring it in one glass. Ben laughed and asked him if it's Christmas already that they're drinking in the morning, and Joe just shrugged and held out the glass to Ben's lips right after he sipped some. And jazz. Of course there has to be jazz. Entertainment is one of the things he’s good at when Ben’s cooking because he's hopeless in the kitchen. But he didn't know flirting was one of them too. “And why did you take my photos _ like that _ , when I wasn't looking? Why did you make me so happy and so confused all at the same time? So _ you tell me _ why shouldn't I want more? Why is it so crazy that I want you all to myself?”

“You want to know what’s crazy?” Joe thinks somewhere in the midst of the endless questions Ben threw at him, he felt like someone just ripped one too many band-aids off of him without a warning--it _ fucking _ stings and it sets him off. “Crazy is dropping all this on me after three weeks of not seeing you, talking to you, god--what the hell are you on, Ben?”

“You could have just said _ no _ to me three weeks ago, but you didn’t, and you didn’t say yes either. So why are you making me wait for three bloody weeks just to hurt me at the end? Don’t you think this is all too bloody damn much?”

“Me, hurting you? Isn’t that a pretty fucking high horse you’re on? Because I flew all the way to London to see you? Because we spent every waking hour in LA and London together and suddenly we don’t know how to behave around each other so you send me away with a kiss and tell me not to text or call you, is this all my fault?”

“What? No, that’s not--” Ben is frustrated, gritting his teeth, and it can be heard from his voice. “I just wanted you to tell me what you want, when you know what you want. If you don’t want this--me, that’s fine too. If I should leave you alone. Tell me that’s what you want so I can tell myself to move on.”

“What do you know about what I want? Or don’t want?” 

“Then tell me, what do you want?”

“You. Isn’t it why we keep on holding on to each other?”

“Why don’t you want to be with me, then? Why didn’t you want to say yes?”

“If I do, if I say yes, what then?”

“Then we’d be together--we’d be in a real relationship.”

“Real relationship?” Joe asks, incredulous. “What, the kind where we sail off to the sun setting at the horizon?”

Ben exhales loudly and his voice comes out tired and low. “You know what, Joe? Fuck you for mocking me just because I decided to tell you how I feel.”

“Mocking you? Don’t say it like I’m taking a walk in the park because you don’t even know how I fucking feel right now, and have been for the past three weeks. You--” Joe pauses, and for the first time since he doesn’t even know when, he feels like he’s going to trip all over his words, he has so much of them fighting to come out of his throat, his mouth. “_ You fucking haunt me _. I spent two weeks in New York wondering why everything reminded me of London. And now I can’t go anywhere in LA without seeing you at every corner and place we went together. I hate every fucking second of not having you here with me. Do you know how that feels like? It’s like hell on overdrive.” Joe wishes he doesn’t sound as desperate and broken as he feels. “I asked myself so many times why did I kiss you back at Heathrow and I don’t have a fucking answer. And I didn’t even have you--”

“Wait what did you--”

“--to talk about it with. I thought I was going to--”

“--say?”

“--go mad. I swear I didn't know if I wanted to either kill you, or kiss you--”

“So you did.”

“--when I saw you next but I don’t even fucking know if and when will that ever happen.”

“Joe--”

Joe wishes Ben would stop saying his name like that and would never say it again. It makes his entire inside and all his fucking resolve go to shit. He groans frustratedly. “You know what? This is ridiculous. I don’t even know what the fuck are we talking about anymore. And we shouldn’t be having this conversation on the phone. Everything is just coming out _ wrong _\--”

“Would you tell me _ everything _ if I were there with you instead of on this fucking line?”

“Yes, I just want to us to talk--”

“Great, I’m taking the first flight out tomorrow, no, today, to LA.”

“What? No, Ben, that’s not--”

“Why not? If that would make you tell me things. Everything.” He pauses. “Or anything.”

“You’re fucking insane.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

There’s silence where neither knows what to say. 

“Ben, are you really--”

“Coming to LA? Yes I am. Earliest flight I can catch. I promise.”

“No, that’s not--” Joe sighs. “Look, it’s 5 am--”

“5.32 am.”

“Right, okay, 5.32 am and you’re _ drunk _\--”

“I know, but--”

“All I’m saying is you should go to bed, get some rest, wake up with a clearer head, if not a hangover--”

“This is the clearest state of mind I have been in three weeks.” And very simply, as if he had rehearsed saying this over and over again, he says, “I love you. I want to see you. Can I?”

“God I _ hate _ you.” Something in his breath catches. “As if you would take a fucking _ no _ for an answer.”

“I wish LA wasn't this far from London.” Ben whispers and Joe closes his eyes tight. 

“Oh god Ben, just stop.”

“I wish I could see you right now.”

“Go to sleep, Ben.”

“Joe, I love you.”

“You’ve said that twice already.” Joe sounds mad. He shouldn’t sound mad but he does because he _ is _ mad. He’s mad because Ben loves him like this. It’s reckless and--dangerous. And how can he be so sure and unapologetic about it? He sighs. “Ben--”

“Yeah.”

“Just--be careful and--”

_ “Mr. Mazzello?” _ Joe half turns to the voice coming from behind him and remembers that the world didn’t stop for them. Of course it didn't. He's still here in LA, having dinner with people he just met today and Ben is in London, drunk and telling him he loves him so much that he would fly out to be with him in LA as soon as humanly possible. Is this really happening? Is this some kind of a warped dream he is in? Would someone come and wake him up? On second thought, no, he would like to stay here, please. It takes him some time to register what the waiter is trying to tell him. “Your friends are wondering if everything's okay and if you’re coming back to the table or you want them to order something for you.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute, thank you.” He puts the phone slightly away from his mouth and after the man leaves, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes briefly again before saying, “Look, Ben, I--” 

“You have company and dinner to attend to. I’ll text you in a while with the details about the flight.”

“You really are taking that flight, aren’t you?”

“If you’re thinking of persuading me otherwise--

“No, no I’m not,” he doesn’t even hesitate. He exhales. “I want to see you too.” It comes out sounding softer than he intends it. 

“God, I can’t fucking wait Joe.” 

“You want me to kill you that badly, huh?” 

Joe hears Ben chuckle on the other side and as clear as day he can see him shaking his head just as if he was there with him. “Okay, so. I have a flight to catch.”

“Of course you do,” he smiles, feeling a little silly. _ A good kind of silly _ . They say their goodbyes softly as if they don’t really want to end the call. But there’s this annoying dinner he has to sit through, and Ben needs to pack and _ oh god _ he hopes the blonde would have enough sense to drink lots of water and keep himself hydrated at least, and eat something and catch some sleep on the way--and the seconds tick before both of them hangs up. And then, silence. If it’s not for the display of his phone showing that he had accepted an incoming call from _ Ben Jones _ twenty-two minutes ago, he could barely believe it himself. Of course it would be Ben who ends up calling him. Ben and his fucking persistence. Doesn’t take no for an answer. Would lie if he needs to. And of course he’s the one jumping on a plane to see him hours from now because that kid, he’s not afraid of a single fucking thing. And of course Joe loves him for _ all of it _ , for his shy smile and wicked eyes, spiraling jokes and no-middle-ground for anything and just--for being who he is. He probably doesn’t deserve him, but he’ll be damned if he ever lose Ben from his life, _ what was he even thinking _?

For now, though, what he has to do is to try to compose himself and head back inside the restaurant. This dinner and these people he has to sit and talk with for the next hour is the last thing he wants to do right now, but he still gives them a forced smile and a reassurance that everything is indeed fine, it was just a call from home, something he has to attend to.

“Right now?” one of them, a brunette in her early twenties, red lips and flirty eyes, asks perhaps a little too worriedly.

“No, no. It’s settled for now. I will see them soon. I’m sorry, let’s get on with our discussion.”

And he does get on with the discussion. There’s laughter all around and the food was exceptionally good tonight too. Everyone’s happy, maybe slightly tipsy. _ And he’s going to see Ben soon _. That’s all he could think of right now, and it’s making his smile wider and more genuine, the first time in weeks. He’s about done here, he thinks. Now he just wants to go home.

“And where’s home?” flirty brunette asks.

“Oh not around here,” he says. “Eleven hours away to be exact, if you get a direct flight.”

Her eyes widen. “That far?” She doesn’t know where exactly that is. She doesn’t have to. An eleven hours direct flight can land at any number of places, anywhere on the globe. She also doesn’t need to know it’s London that Joe is talking about. 

Joe laughs. “Just kidding.” She laughs too and probably doesn’t even realize that she did not get a straight answer from him. Or perhaps she does. He doesn’t really care, either way.

His phone lights up with a text notification and it does so exactly at the right time. Joe busies himself with checking his phone and there it is, a text from the only person he _ actually _ cares about. There’s an airplane emoji and next to it, it says “LAX 16.45 can’t fucking wait.”

Twenty hours and counting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY !!  
Let us know how you guys are feeling after this rollercoaster of emotions!  
And again, thank you so much for sticking around. We really appreciate every single one of you!


	12. Here with you, there's nowhere else I'd rather be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are finally folks. Ben is in LA with Joe. Can we all breathe a sigh of relief now?
> 
> We'd say, not so quickly. Nothing is ever so simple and easy with these two.

If Joe is being honest about how he feels right now, he would say it is both like waiting for a 35-storey-high roller coaster jump and holding his breath underwater with his eyes open, so that he could see Ben, living, breathing and moving about in his LA house, before finally settling on sitting at the side of the bed, where Joe is lying down along its width, on top of the covers. Ben’s eyebrows are scrunched up in concentration as he’s typing away on his iPhone. He pauses at times, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, and it’s one of Ben’s little quirks that Joe notices; he’d do it every time he’s focusing on things like reading or listening to something or someone. Usually he will break into an equally unconscious and disarming smile once his concentration is broken, which immediately turns his expression softer, almost sweeter, his eyes crinkling at their sides. But not this time around. Right now, there's a frown on his face, and it's laced with an undercurrent of something unsettling.

“Joe,” he says, and Joe quickly closed his eyes as Ben turns to look at him. 

“Hey, wake up mate,” if Joe listens correctly, there’s a hint of irritation in his voice.

“Joe,” he tries again, this time leaning closer to him.

Joe opens his eyes. “Why are you upset?”

Ben inhaled sharply and cursed under his breath. “Damn it, Joe.”

They keep their gaze on each other, one heavy-lidded, one mildly irritated, both tired. Joe smiles and Ben sighs.

“Come here,” Joe pats the space on the bed beside him, but Ben doesn’t move. Joe reaches to tug at the sleeve of his sweater. “Come here,” he tries again, tugging harder. Ben’s sigh gets heavier, but he relents and moves so that he’s lying down on his stomach beside Joe, who is on his back.

“You are upset because…?”

“I’m not upset.”

“Okay,” Joe says softly, “so you’re not upset.”

Ben brings his arms over his head and folds them, burying his head in them. He says, voice muffled, “I’m just tired.”

“You’re tired,” Joe repeats, and turns on his side so he’s facing Ben’s side, his head propped up on one arm. His other arm hangs from his side, across his torso. Ben turns his head towards Joe, his face reemerging from its hiding place,. His eyes are slightly puffy from lack of proper sleep and his cheeks slightly flushed from being buried in the folded sleeves of his sweater. It makes his entire expression even softer. He clears his throat a little.

“Yeah, _ very _ tired. Slept horribly on the flight here.”

Joe keeps his gaze on Ben steady, even as the younger man turns to lie down on his back. They’re so close now that he feels like he’s hovering over Ben, invading spaces he shouldn’t be. Or should he, now? Seconds tick by loudly in Joe's ears. The rollercoaster is going to drop. 

“Can I kiss you?”

He watches carefully as the colour and light in Ben’s eyes shift. 

“Yes,” Ben says finally, his voice so quiet and deep and soft Joe thought he might have just imagined it.

As if in slow motion, as if afraid to break the stillness of the evening that fills the room, Joe reaches out with one hand; it begins with his fingers gingerly landing on the skin before the hairline at Ben’s temple, and ends with his lips on Ben’s, palm cradling the side of his face, fingers in golden blonde hair. Their eyes close almost at the same time, and Joe thinks it feels like when Ben kissed him at Heathrow all over again, only this time there are no surprises and sudden goodbyes. The quietness of the room folds them in. It feels like the ticking seconds have come to a halt, or perhaps the warmth and sweetness of the kiss frames the moment permanently in Joe’s mind, and he doesn’t want to move away from it, or anywhere else for that matter, right now. If he has just lost gravity, then Ben’s lips would be the only thing anchoring him still. He dimly realizes that Ben is holding on to his arm, the one touching the side of his face, and he wonders if he feels the same way too.

When they draw apart from each other Ben shifts so he’s lying on his side. They’re still so close, the distance between their lips only in inches. It doesn’t come as a surprise for either of them when this distance disappears again. What does surprise Joe, however, is how careful and aware he is of every single movement he makes or does not make, and how much he does not want to fuck this up.

Twenty-four hours ago, he wasn’t even sure when was he going to talk to or see Ben again, and now, all he could think about is how is he going to make him stay. Aren’t thoughts such strange things; the way they never existed at any point of time in your life before and the way you never know where and when they would come to you, and when they did, they took such a firm hold of your being that you could not imagine a time when you never had them. The time when you never even have thought that things would play out the way they did, and that you would have feelings, and that they would make you fall for your best friend.

But that's not even the scariest part. The part that makes him lose it sometimes is that he doesn’t know how to do this. Ben was his best friend. No, he still is. He is, isn’t he? He has got to be. There is no way he is trading that with anything else. But now that things have changed, he doesn’t know which part of them is still the sarcastic, joke-cracking, bantering mates and which part is a little bit more than that. And what is actually a little bit more than that? Him telling Ben that he had thought about kissing him too? Or them lying down on Joe’s bed, tired, sleepy, fully-clothed and barely touching, except for their hands and lips?

Perhaps Ben had thought their meeting would have been more momentous and exciting than the long and friendly hug they exchanged at the airport. Ben flew in to LA all the way from London tired, possibly had been up the whole day before that and maybe dehydrated and slightly drunk, and merely hours before boarding the flight, they had been on the phone, alternating between trying not to scream and break down at the same time. At least to him it seemed like that. And of course Ben shut him up by telling him that he loves him. Twice. And of course Joe had to have his insides and tongue all tied up, with nothing good to say. Or maybe he’s just afraid that whatever he has to say isn’t good enough for Ben. Being honest about his feelings has never been his strongest suit. Well, maybe not at all. If only the words would come out of his mouth the same way they rush through in his brain, coursing through his veins. If only putting words to his feelings isn’t this difficult. That he doesn’t always put layers and layers over everything he says, especially when it matters. Especially when it comes to how he feels about Ben.

When there’s distance between them again, he looks at Ben, tired, sleepy green eyes, slightly mussed up hair, irritation running everywhere under his skin at low voltage. He knows he had promised Ben that they would talk, and that’s why Ben is here, with him, on his bed, all prickly and irritated because he doesn’t like his expectations to be put on hold. And Joe gets it, he really does. But all he could seem to do is to offer him silence. Between his frustration and wanting to kiss Ben again, he had to remind himself to breathe. Ben tastes like hours without sleep, cigarette and Coke. He barely realizes that he’s licking his lips.

“Joe,” he still looks and sounds as sleepy and tired as before, his voice cracking around the edges, but softer. Joe wants to say _ yes _, say his name, tell him for goodness sake does he know how badly he missed him in the three weeks that they didn’t talk, didn’t text, didn’t see each other, and how it drove him completely insane, but he did not say anything. How could he? Ben was right. He could have called. He turns the thought over and over again in his head. But how could he have? If he had called, what could he possibly have said?

“So you wanted me to fly eleven hours here so you could just stare at me?” Ben asks. Is he getting upset? Maybe. Joe doesn’t blame him. He’d be upset at himself too.

He wants to speak, to say something, but instead he bites his lip. _ No _ , he wanted to say. _ No, that’s not it _ . Three weeks of not seeing Ben, and are they about to argue now? Right after they kissed? After all, he did tell the younger man over the phone twenty hours ago that he _ hates _ him. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to say that when all he wanted to really say was how much he _ loves _ him? The polarity between what he says and how he truly feels is astonishing, to say the least. It’s absurd. He wants to taste Ben’s lips again. He closes his eyes briefly. Exactly like how he remembers it when he kissed him at Heathrow, but better.

He turns to lie down on his back, arms outstretched on the bed. When Ben comes closer, lies down on his stomach again and puts his head on the space between Joe’s arm and shoulder, he closes his arm around Ben, his palm resting on his shoulder blade. He could feel the rising and falling of his chest, so visible and heavy like it is drawing out every inch of whatever is left of its energy to keep the rhythm going. _ Up, down. _ His palm on Joe’s chest now. _ Up, and down _.

“Didn’t I come here so we could talk?” there’s a hint of irritation in his tone that Joe picks up almost instantly. It makes Joe think of polarity again. How warm Ben feels in his arms, and how _ bristly _.

“Right now?” He really just wants to kiss Ben again.

“Yes, what’s wrong with right now?”

“Nothing wrong with right now,” he says as he holds Ben closer to him.

“But--?” he asks in a challenging tone. Joe closes his eyes briefly.

“Ben,” he says softly. “You just flew eleven hours from London to LA with little to no sleep, jetlagged and possibly dehydrated and I’m both happy and a bit mortified that you did all that just so you could be here, with me? I know we should talk,” he swallows. “But can I just hold you and can we be okay with just this for now? Please?’

Ben is silent for a long minute, as if he’s considering it. “I’m so tired,” he finally says. He really is, and Joe could tell it from his voice. There’s a slight shaking that can be heard in his voice. There’s also a bit of a hesitation before he finally says, “--and you’re probably right.”

Joe bites his lip to stop himself from saying that he always is. It’s supposed to be funny and it would be under usual circumstances, but Joe suspects that this moment is exactly one of those not-so-normal-circumstances he would have to get used to after this. He doesn’t know how realizing this fact is making him feel. He rubs the younger man’s back slowly and gently with his palm and he could feel Ben shifts even closer to him. To hold another person close like this, to be able to feel their warmth and breath on the skin, it’s a nice feeling; it’s a _ great _ feeling. He could almost hear his heart sighs in contentment. 

“You should sleep a little,” he says softly, his lips so close to Ben’s forehead that the word is ghosting on his skin. “I’ll still be here when you wake up and we’ll get us something proper to eat and we’ll talk and do anything you like after that, okay?”

Ben snuggles closer and holds Joe tighter by way of an answer. “Is that a promise?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause punctuated by a sigh from Ben. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

He smiles and waits. It doesn’t even take minutes before Ben’s breathing begins to regulate with more spaces in between, as he falls asleep. Joe closes his eyes then, and sleep comes easy.

  
  


**********

  
  


Ben’s first thought when consciousness forces him to open his eyes and rub sleep off them is to wonder why it is already dark outside, and why does he feel like he’s sleeping on the wrong side of the bed, in the wrong room, until he sees Joe lying beside him, asleep but beginning to stir.

Then it registers in his mind; it could be any o'clock at night, he’s lying down on Joe’s bed, in Joe’s bedroom, in Joe’s arms, and that last thought made him jolt into complete wakefulness, rapidly blinking his eyes. Just to be sure that he’s not still asleep and just dreaming this. He lifts his head a little from where it’s resting so close to Joe’s, who is lying down on his side, face towards him, one arm casually draped on his chest.

“Are we waking up now?” he asks.

Ben grunts by way of reply. His mouth is still heavy with sleep. “Yes,” he manages, voice thick and croaking. He lifts his arm, it feels like lead. “Maybe no.”

Joe smiles, eyes still closed. “Make up your mind.”

He turns to look at Joe, glad that he can stare without the man seeing him do so. How late into the night it must be outside, Ben thinks. There’s light filtering in from the window and he’s glad that the curtain is drawn aside, so that the softened light bathes the room and spills itself on the bed. On Joe. He looks like he’s glowing everywhere on his pale skin, his arm around Ben, his red-brown hair. The soft light travels and ebbs gently all over him, and the only thing Ben could think of is how would his skin feels like on his lips.

“It’s late.”

“Yeah, but. Aren’t you hungry?”

Ben blinks a few times. “Maybe. Yeah, I think so.”

“So let’s go somewhere to eat.” Joe opens his eyes. They’re so close. _ Too close _.

“Now?”

“No, next week.”

Ben wants to elbow him but then he started to laugh, and Ben manages a glare, he really did, but he’s cracking a smile too and Joe is smiling up at him like that and he doesn’t know why was he even upset that Joe is a smart ass. He loves his smart mouth and the way it tastes when they kiss--

“You’ve been awake for a while.” It was neither a question nor a terribly important observation to make. He’s just creating distraction for himself. His mind is steering madly to the memory of several hours ago when they were kissing in the same spot where they’re lying down right now. His lips were warm, and sweet, tasting faintly like vanilla and mint, and they were kissing so slowly and gently that it was impossible not to remember every second of it, as if it was playing in slow motion. He closes his eyes and sighs heavily. Within minutes of waking up, he is already feeling slightly mad. Mad for Joe. Mad at himself. He remembers Joe even asked if he could kiss him. As if he would say _ no _. But it was perfect. Every single thing was. The fact that his willingness mattered. The way Joe looked at him. Frankly, the only thing that he had to complain about was when they stopped. It was not even something to compare to when he kissed Joe in the middle of Heathrow, all rushed adrenaline and awkward feelings.

“I'm gonna fall asleep again if you don't want us to get up now,” Joe says, his forehead resting on the side of Ben’s shoulder. “And don't make me ask you if I could kiss you again,” he says, his face half hidden behind Ben's arm. “Because I would.”

Ben sighs again, looking up to the ceiling. No, he thinks. He might be the one actually doing the kissing instead. “Let’s get up and get going, then.”

Joe sighs too, and buries his head in the crook between the back of Ben’s arm and the mattress. When he lifts his face, eyes a little heavy with sleep around it, he is smiling slightly. “Okay, whatever you say.”

There’s a dull but persistent throbbing at the back of his head that follows him around the entire time they are moving about the house getting ready to go out. Joe lets Ben use the bathroom first, and when he’s getting ready, Joe gets in. He starts on his first cigarette of the day, or night, standing on the patio as he hears Joe getting out of the bathroom. He closes the sliding glass door behind him, muting any and all sound from inside the house, cutting himself from the very likely source of his emotional rollercoaster right now. He needs the space and silence to think, to sort out his mind and set some things straight. He’s here so that he could hear some pretty specific things being said. He means business, and especially so because there’s so much at stake here. His heart. Their friendship. His rapidly growing want. 

He takes a long drag of his cigarette, the tobacco and menthol hitting his throat hard. He thinks of vanilla and mint instead. It’s absurd, but he’s _ obsessed _. And he wants to know if the rest of Joe tastes the same too--which is not exactly the kind of thought that is helpful when he’s trying to focus on other matters that are of the more sensible kind.

So he wants, no, needs Joe to tell him if he wants him like he does. Not ambiguously, not by assumption, deduction, or by the way they kiss. It’s not all just about that. And he is a little petrified that Joe has been nothing but mostly calm about things--they haven’t been talking much since he got here-- wasn’t the point of him flying from London to LA within 24 hours after they talked on the phone, that they sort this out? Once and for all? That he gets his answer so he can put his heart, and mind, where they’re meant to be?

He doesn’t hear the sliding door open behind him, and almost cursed when he hears Joe’s voice right next to his ear. “Ready whenever you are,” he grins. “Did I catch you daydreaming?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

He can’t help the smile creeping in on his lips, looking at Joe grinning beside him. It makes him think about how badly he wants this. That he wants Joe. He wants to be able to say with confidence that this is where he belongs, there’s nowhere else he would rather be other than by Joe’s side. In his arms, more preferably. And he wants to hear Joe say that he wants the same thing too. Does he? He didn’t just make a bloody mistake coming all the way to LA, did he? 

He has a bottle of water that he almost emptied just now, so he drops the cigarette butt inside, making sure it’s completely extinguished by the liquid. Funny that Joe told him over the phone that he didn’t know if he would kill or kiss him when they meet, because that’s exactly how he feels right now. He wants Joe to stop smiling at him, stop touching his arm, stop coming closer to him. Stop making him stop thinking about all the answers he needs to hear. _ Just stop _, and kiss him instead. It's so bloody tempting. 

So he's glad when Joe makes his way inside again, and they’re finally going out. They get into Joe’s car and head out, scattering city lights trailing their way. They talk about a few things and nothing in particular during the drive, the conversation easier and flowing more naturally. Natural for them is Joe doing most of the talking anyway, and Ben is glad that he is, once again, listening to his favourite person talking about anything at all, from the most recent thing he had binge-read or watched to him making sure Ben will get to eat something with a lot of avocado in it at this place they’re going to eat at.

This place turns out to be a retro-style diner that serves breakfast menu all day long, 24/7. Ben recognizes it from the few times they have been there the last time he was in LA. He doesn’t know that he missed their avocado and egg toast until he sees it again in front of his eyes. They end up ordering too much food for two people, but between them, manage to finish everything anyway.

“Did we eat this much the last time we were here?” Ben asks as they make their way down the road towards where Joe’s car is parked. 

“No, but last time we were here, you did not just arrived from London, with no sleep, possibly a little drunk, dehydrated and upset with me.”

“I wasn’t upset with you.”

Joe doesn’t say anything, but he’s smiling. “If you say so.”

“Stop saying that, Joe.” It comes out sounding more cross than he originally intended, that it surprises him too.

“Saying what?”

“If I say so, whatever I say, whatever I want.” He runs a hand through his hair a little irritably. _ Fuck _ , this is ridiculous. That’s not what he wanted to say. This isn’t the conversation he wants to have. But he wants Joe to say something, to tell him things. To put his mind at ease. Why aren’t they talking about _ them _ already? What are they waiting for? He glances at Joe, and he looks like he wants to say something, but decides against it. Instead, he is looking away from him now, and then down to his shoes. They’re still walking at leisurely pace side by side, but it feels like they’re miles away from each other. Ben doesn’t like how feeling like that makes him feel, and the pang of guilt he’s beginning to feel is making him feel even worse. Things were going on so well earlier; he felt like he had gotten Joe back, _ his Joe _, the person he knows best and loves most. But now he’s beginning to feel a little lost, and he doesn’t know where did all the warmth and closeness from a few hours ago had disappeared to.

He needs nicotine. “Do you mind?” he asks, pulling out his pack of cigarettes from his back pocket.

“No.”

Ben shrugs and lights up a stick, while Joe unlocks the car and they get in. He leaves the window rolled down as Ben carefully smokes without spilling any ashes in the car. The silence within is almost deafening. There were a few half-hearted attempts at starting a conversation, but neither are obviously up to it. Ben waits impatiently for the nicotine to calm him down. The city continues to sparkle bright even late into the night. It must have been well past midnight now. When they were in LA, the couple of months when he was staying with Joe, they’d drive around past midnight like this, listening to music and just talking. The topics of their conversation ranges from the most serious to absurd, to sometimes downright silly, and they always end up laughing way too much. But now, they’re both silent. Joe is driving with one hand, as he sometimes would, one palm on his temple, elbow against the door. His lips are drawn into a line. He couldn’t see his face clearly, but when he drives like this it either means he’s relaxed, or upset. All signs pointing to the latter.

The menthol in his mouth lingers, the only taste he’s missing now is vanilla. Ben curses inwardly. He has barely finished one cigarette, and now he’s already itching for another.

When they reach Joe’s place Ben goes around back to the patio to finish his cigarette. Joe joins him silently a minute later, hands him a glass of something. He doesn’t ask, takes the glass and sets it on the round garden table nearby, next to the ashtray. The night grows deeper.

“Want to talk?” Joe offers, breaking the thick silence between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What everyone needs is to talk more honestly with each other, really. Talk, people. Tell people you love and appreciate them (and love reading their fics, maybe?). And drink lots of water. The weather is crazy these days.
> 
> And leave us comments because it's like water to our souls. ❤️


	13. Yesterday's feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they talk. And fight. How hard it is to understand someone you're talking to? Talking isn't supposed to be difficult when you love each other, right?
> 
> Wrong.

Ben turns to look at Joe. Now that they’re finally going to talk, he’s caught in between surprise and relief, with a dash of nervousness thrown in. They have spoken in uncertain terms about wanting to see and be near each other, sure. They kissed, sure. But right now it feels like they’re at the verge of another argument. At least he could tell from the way he feels about things right now. 

“Yeah, I’d like to.” 

Joe nods. It could be the darkness that is spread over the inked night, swallowing colours and muting lights, but Ben thinks Joe looks a lot paler than usual. He is looking down, his eyes on the toes of his shoes, his hand moving in a muted circle, swirling the liquid around in the glass he’s holding. He looks younger like this, his eyes now hidden behind shadows. Nothing on his face tells Ben he looks upset, nothing to confirm his earlier suspicion about how he felt in the car earlier. In fact, he looks mildly distraught even, and definitely very deep in thought. Perhaps earlier, he was just projecting his own frustrations on Joe. Maybe he just wants to kiss him so badly. He looks away and stubs his cigarette onto the waiting ashtray.

“Can I ask you something bluntly?”

Joe looks sideways to him now. “Yeah.”

“Why am I here, Joe? I thought you wanted to talk.”

He watches the redhead carefully. Joe is frowning a little. If he must say it, he likes him smiling, laughing and generally being silly around him, but there’s something so mesmerizing and intense about his looks when he’s focused on something like this. When his eyebrows are drawn somewhat closer together, the knot denting the space between them a little. His lips pressed into a thin line and his hazel eyes lit up like deep amber. He thinks about the countless times he had stared at the older man as he’s concentrating on reading a script or writing one, researching about something or studying a map, or even playing a stupid video game. 

“I know we’re supposed to talk, and I’m not supposed to make it seem like I’m avoiding this.”

“Are you?”

“Maybe.” A pause. “Yes.” An honest answer. That’s a good start, at least.

“Why? Don’t you want to figure this out? Us?” He can’t deny that Joe’s admission is disconcerting, to say the least. It eats away at his anxiety. Not that he could be easily dissuaded to change his mind about things, about people, especially the very person he is in love with, but it has nothing to do with hating the fact that Joe has thought of avoiding talking this out with him. Ben frowns, tries hard to understand this so that it doesn’t get on his nerves all wrong.

“What does it mean to you then? Us.” Joe looks up, eyes meeting Ben’s.

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Everything. Like I want to be with you all the time, I want you only to myself kind of everything. Not just friends. A relationship.”

Joe keeps his gaze on Ben steady. “Well, to begin with,” he starts, “telling someone that you want to be more than friends with them, kissing them and then leaving them alone for three weeks is a really shitty way of trying to convince said person that you want to have a relationship with them.”

Ben blinks. “kay,” he says. “I honestly thought you needed time to process this on your own. Like I did.”

“Ever thought that maybe I’m not like you?”

“No, I know that,” he says a little too quickly, sounding more annoyed than he actually is. “I mean, I thought you would appreciate having the space to think.”

“And no one to talk to?” he retorts.

“Why didn’t you call me then?”

“And tell you what?”

“That you had questions.”

“I thought you wanted to hear an answer.”

“You could have told me that you had questions.”

“How would I know you’d be okay to hear questions from me when you told me you wanted to hear an answer?”

Ben grits his teeth and Joe sighs heavily. “This is going nowhere,” he says, clearly frustrated. Ben doesn’t know why Joe is doing this, using his own words against him. What did he think he’d do if Joe called him and told him he had doubts? Hang up? Give up on him? No, of course not. Joe should know this, he _ knows _ him. He knows Ben would have done exactly what he just did yesterday; took a bloody flight to LA just so they could talk about figuring things out. Still, here he is, throwing his own words back at him? What the hell is he playing at? It’s driving Ben bloody crazy and he wants to tell Joe this. All of it. But he is looking at Joe now and he tells himself that that was not it. _ Joe knows him _. This is clearly more than just Joe having unanswered questions.

“So ask me now.” he challenges. 

“Ask you what?”

“Whatever you wanted to ask.”

“Okay.” Ben watches as Joe takes a deep breath. “What were you thinking?” he starts. “What is it that you want to hear from me? What do you want me to say? Why me? Why you? What am I getting myself into?” He pauses, perhaps realizing his voice has been rising steadily. 

Even more than just answering his questions, Ben is trying to decipher why he is asking all these, and if they are really questions for him. And he really doesn’t think so. If anything, it seems as if he’s actually mostly unsure--about himself. He’s overthinking things. Ben knows how that feels like, being unable to look at the nine times things went right when there was once that it didn’t. It’s debilitating, it does strange things to the most wonderful people. It gives enough reason for anyone to give up on something, or someone, or everything altogether, when sometimes what they need is just to hear that things are not as bad as they think. Just for someone to have faith and give reassurance. And he wants to give that to Joe, if that’s what he needs. If that’s what he wants, and if he would take it.

When Joe speaks again, it’s in a quieter tone. “I feel like I’m free falling somewhere I can’t see. It’s just--” he pauses and swallows. “I just don’t know when and if it would break, and where would I land--”

“Well,” there’s a moment of hesitation, but he says it anyway, “you’d land onto me.”

Joe looks at him squarely. Is that disbelief he sees in Joe’s eyes? 

There’s a pause before Joe breaks into silent laughter, and Ben could barely believe it. What the hell--and here he is, thinking he’s only saying things that would make things better for him, for them, that Joe would feel reassured and less unsure about things--but all he gets in return is a mocking? A laugh? He feels like he’s catching fire as rapidly as the heat he could feel burning the back of his neck, on his face, behind his eyes. _ That’s it _, he thinks, turning around and pushing the glass sliding door open before stepping in, his hard, angry steps are followed by Joe’s lighter ones. Joe stops for a while, closing the sliding door behind him as he calls out his name, but he could barely care less at this point. 

“Ben, wait,” he tries again, and catching up swiftly, he grabs him by the arm. They stop in their tracks, but not before Ben yanks his arm away from Joe’s grip. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--” he looks really, genuinely apologetic, eyes translucent, lips drawn into a tight line. Ben hates that. He hates that Joe has this kind of instant effect on him, that he could feel his anger loosening its grip on him a little, just because he apologized. Just because he actually does love Joe _ this fucking much _. “I’m sorry,” his voice softer now, and he hates that Joe can flip his moods as if he has a little remote control over his feelings.

But he keeps his stare steady. That’s the least he could do. And the only other thing that is more infuriating than being laughed at for saying something so sincere, is that the only other thought he has in his mind right now is how much he would like to kiss the same mouth that had laughed at him seconds ago. He thinks he’s going insane, and he’s mad at Joe for making him this mad for him. He has no right whatsoever. 

“You were making _ bloody _ fun of me,” Ben says with hurt all over his voice.

“No, I wasn’t, that wasn’t it--” He pauses. What is it that is so damn hard to be said? Or is he going to laugh again? 

“What's so funny or wrong about saying how I really bloody feel?” he asks before Joe could say anything else, “at least I’m being honest.” He sounds bitter and defensive, and he doesn’t _ bloody _ care.

“I didn't say there was anything wrong with it,” Joe deadpans. “I think it's incredibly gutsy, and--”

“--unrealistic and naive?” Ben cuts him off. Joe shakes his head.

“No, I think it’s incredibly brave and I wonder how you do it sometimes,” he says, looking away. “Because I’m completely shit at it.”

“Was this why it was hard for you to give an answer to me?”

“What was? The fact that I’m shit at telling people how I feel?”

“No. That you’re a bloody cynic who thinks loving someone is a joke.” Somewhere from a distance, at the back of his head, he knows he’s just picking a fight. But he’s hurt, and he’s not going to just ignore it this time, everything else be damned.

“Wait, I never said that,” Joe squints disapprovingly. 

“That’s what it sounded like to me.”

“But I never said _ the feelings we have for each other _ are a joke!”

“Joe,” he raises his voice a little, “I just wanted to know if you wanted to be with me or not. How complicated could that possibly be?”

“Very, if you’re me,” Joe deadpans, the rise in his voice matching Ben’s. “Have you ever thought, for example, about how people would perceive us?”

“People?” Ben asks, incredulous. “Who? Our friends? Family?”

“And film producers, media, fans, just--people, in general.”

Ben pinches the space between his eyebrows a little. “Joe, frankly,” he starts, “you can laugh at me all you want but I’d like to think that the feelings I have for you are more important than whatever anyone may think or perceive us to be.”

“I don’t disagree with you but this isn’t some fucking bubble that we live in,” he gestures around him with his hands. “You’ve got to at least consider it a little. Great if nobody bats their eyelashes, but what if they do?”

“And what about it then?” he retorts, sounding more incredulous than ever. “Listen, Joe. If anyone is going to judge me for something other than my talent anywhere, I'm not fucking interested,” he pauses, searching for Joe’s eyes. “I left a job for a lot less when I was still no one. Do you really think I would trade _ you _ for a role?”

“That was a matter of principle, Ben. This is a matter of choice.”

“Choice? What, do you think I chose this? That one day I thought, ‘hmm, how can I complicate not only my life but my best friend’s life to hell and back? Oh I know, I’m going to fall for him!’” His voice drips with sarcasm, partly exaggerated, completely intentional. He wants Joe to really get this, to have this sink in his head. Joe blinks, looking like he’s a little taken aback. Is he really? Because if he is, then that’s good. Exactly what Ben had hoped for. 

When Joe falls silent, he continues. “This is a matter of principle as well. And it’s even more important because it’s you.” he adds, softer this time, but resolute. Frankly, the kind of determination he hears in his own voice is terrifying, but in a good way. If he ever had any doubt about them, about his feelings for this man standing in front of him right now, it would have been completely erased by now. “I refuse to be a part of an industry that cares more about who I love than what I do in front of a camera,” he pauses, searching Joe’s eyes again. He really means it, every word he says. Always have. He just hopes that Joe would be able to see things the way he sees them too. “Why are you so adamant in making me choose between you and my career when we don't even know if it will come to that?”

“You think I’m crazy for saying all this but I do think about it. About all of it--” There’s something in the way Joe says this that makes Ben wonder if there’s still something that’s left unsaid. “--a lot. It’s not just about having feelings for each other.”

"Then what else is this about? Because I can't stop wanting this just because I’m overthinking things and I’m scared it's all gonna go to shit." Ben takes another deep breath and looks at Joe looking away from him now. Did he go too far? How far is too far, anyway? They have pretty much gone too far away with both their feelings and friendship to find themselves standing right here, right now, at this point where everything must be dragged out into the daylight and said out loud. And there is no way he's backing down from this conversation, no matter how bloody infuriating it gets. “You know what? I think you’re just terrified.”

“Terrified?” Joe asks in a raised voice, turning to look at Ben now. “Of what?” He sounds incredulous.

“Of finding out how happy you could be if you’d just have faith in this, in us, for a little bit.”

Joe shakes his head, chuckling softly. “Oh Ben, you’re--”

“--the bloody stupid romantic who says exactly what I feel the way I feel it, and I’m fine with that. I love you, Joe. I fucking love you. And you couldn't possibly believe me no matter what I say to convince you because you're the sensible one and I'm just an idiot who happens to be in love with you."

“No, that’s not--” he frowns, his entire expression clouded by it, “Ben, you are--” Joe inhales, it looks and sounds as if he’s having a hard time just breathing, “you’re _ perfect _. And all I could think of was that--there must be--” he pauses, “someone better out there for you.” His voice had gone so quiet that Ben almost didn’t believe it was him talking. What is this hesitation he hears in Joe’s voice? What kind of nonsense? That he thinks he’s not good enough for him? He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t heard it himself.

“That’s the most bloody ridiculous thing I have ever heard coming from you yet.”

“I’m serious--”

“And I’m serious too,” he says swiftly, voice raising again, exasperation and persistence all mixed in. “I only want you.” _ Can’t you see? _ He keeps his eyes on Joe’s own, the thin, perfectly shaped eyebrows that were previously knotted together, have gradually loosened themselves off. It makes Joe’s entire expression soften a little. “I don't want anyone but you. _ You _ are perfect for me.” He says all this while still looking right into Joe’s eyes, and he is a little dizzy from the realization that he has just basically offered his heart, his love, his whole bloody damn soul to Joe up on a platter, and it’s entirely up to the older man whether to make this the best decision he has ever made, or the absolute fucking worst. 

“And I don't understand why you're putting up excuses when I'm here telling you that I want you, I want _ us _ , this badly." He continues after there’s no response from Joe, his frustration only rising by the second. What else does he have to do or say to prove to him how serious he is about all this? "You don't have to be scared, Joe. It's me, it's us. Us isn't scary. I'm your friend. Shouldn't that make it easier and not harder? You know me, we already have a relationship and I just want more of that." He pauses. But Joe is silent and still, his expression showing nothing but the remnants of the deep frown he had on earlier. It’s making Ben upset and scared at the same time. If anything, this is all the sign he needed to tell himself that this might well be the worst decision ever, and it is starting to weigh him down heavily. He can’t read a single bloody thing on Joe’s face right now and it makes all his insides tighten and he feels like he’s going to be sick. He can’t possibly go through this anymore. “If you can't tell me what you want,” he says through gritted teeth, “then at least tell me what you _ don't want _ .” _ Tell me that you don’t want me, and I’ll get the fuck out of here before you could even blink _.

“I'll tell you what I don't want.” Is that a challenge he could hear in Joe’s voice? How could this whole conversation piss him off even more than it already did right now is a true wonder. “I don't want you to break my heart, because I don't want to break yours either.'

“Joe--” he starts and stops, because _ he has to be fucking joking, he has to be _ . “I can't _ bloody _ break something I'm not allowed to _ bloody _ have, can I?” he pauses, “And if it matters to you, it's a bit too late for that too, you've already broken mine anyway.”

“So if that’s the case, let's just stop all this nonsense, then,” Joe says defiantly. “Let's just stop being so fucking ridiculous right now and--” he pauses, as if unsureof what to say next, “--and causing more damage than what we've already done.”

Ben closes his eyes and swears all he sees is red. “Okay, you know what? Fine, if that’s what you _ really _ want, let’s do that. Let’s just stay friends. I’ll go back to London now and we’ll pretend none of this ever happened.” Not only could he hear himself at the verge of shouting, but his voice is also shaking a little. “And it would be all because you’re too fucking scared for some reason that you’d break my heart and I’ll break yours and everything would be a fucking disaster when this--” he holds out a hand, palm open, “all this, is already a fucking disaster. The only fucking way anyone could ever fucking break someone’s heart, is to let them think that they could have something--” he had to pause as the shake in his voice is turning into a real tremor, and he’d be damned if he starts crying right now, “and then tell them they couldn’t. You’re the worst, Joe,” his voice rising with every word, “the _ absolute, fucking worst _. You kissed me like that, and now I’ll have to forget that it ever happened when you know that it’s impossible, and I have to tell myself that it will never, ever happen again, and you--”

Ben never gets to finish his sentence as Joe shuts him up with a kiss, his hands cradling either side of his face, backing him up as he does, until his leg hits the side of a glass cabinet behind him. As if in a far distance, he hears the sound of something being knocked down, falling with a dull thud on the carpeted floor. He wants more than anything to push the older man away, to continue shouting his head off until he has nothing left to say or starts crying or both, but it's a little hard to think or have self-resolve when Joe is kissing him like this, his hands in his hair and the back of his neck, holding him close as they kiss for as long as the air in their lungs allow. They’re breathless, gasping for air when they pull away, as if breaking above water from somewhere ocean-deep.

“Dammit Joe, you can't fucking do this to me,” he protests in between gasps, even as they move in closer again for another kiss.

“Do what?” Joe asks when they pull away again, but never too far to draw each other in for another kiss. “Isn't this what you wanted?” he says even as he kisses Ben again, and again, each time more lingering than the last.

“Fuck. No,” he curses under his breath, trying to keep his wits about him. Joe stops, freezes. “This is not what I want--” Ben protests while his voice trails away and he finds himself gravitating towards Joe, almost beyond his own control. Damn Joe and the effect he has on him. The kind that makes him lose his mind and all trails of rational thoughts. “You should tell me if you want to be with me or not, at the bloody least,” he manages, even as he caves in and kisses Joe, one hand under his jaw and his thumb grazing the corner of Joe’s mouth. “Please,” he says before he could stop himself.

Not that there is much of him that is functioning under his rational mind anymore. When Joe pulls away a little so he could look at Ben in the eyes, he puts a hand around him, keeping him close, while the other takes his hand, the one touching the side of his face and he moves it so that he could kiss the palm of his hand, once, twice, before lacing their fingers together. Ben thinks he’s going to choke on the suddenly growing lump in his throat. He is still painfully aware of Joe’s arm around him, fingers ghosting at the hem and under his sweater, and his eyes are beginning to sting. He just wants to hear--

“I do,” he says, voice calm and his eyes looking straight into Ben’s. “All the time. It got to a point where it was physically painful to think about not being with you,” he swallows. Is that glass Ben sees in his eyes? “But I thought maybe--I could live with that,” he pauses, frowning, voice trailing off, and Ben wants to ask him _ why,_ why would he even think about that as an option when it clearly doesn’t have to be, but Joe speaks again before he could, “until I realized that I don’t have to.”

It wouldn’t take much to set Ben off at this point, honestly, but Joe basically telling him that he wants Ben too, and that he doesn’t want to be without him, is as good as it gets. He would have settled with a simple, stupid ‘yes’, or Joe could have even stopped at ‘I do’, but of course he had to tell Ben all these and Ben had to feel like his heart is beating so loudly like it’s about to burst when fifteen seconds ago, he was sure it was about to shrivel and die from the thought of going back to London where there would be no Joe, neither in the city nor in his life, not in the way that he wants him to be and mean to him.

There could have been no Joe whose hand is around him right now, whose calm, doe eyes light up as if set on fire when Ben brings him in for another kiss, his hands on either side of his face, fingers in hair, thumb grazing his ear before again roaming close to his mouth. To think that not having Joe in his life is no longer an option, no longer something he needs to live with, he doesn’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that he has never felt so bloody thankful in his life before. Never felt so bloody relieved, never felt like he wanted to kiss someone so hard and long and never want to stop. He takes the tentative step forward even as Joe steps backward, a step that quickly turns into more as he realizes they’re no longer in the living room now, they’ve just taken the turn into the hallway, and he barely realizes it when Joe maneuvers him so that he has him against the wall. He wants to say something then, but Joe is kissing him again and Ben just doesn’t want him to stop, he really doesn’t.

But there’s this annoying thing called breathing that they have to do, so they pull apart, even as Ben makes sure they’re still close enough that their noses bump and touch clumsily with each other.

“You know? You _ are _ the absolute fucking worst--” the words ghost over Joe’s lips and he brings them together one more time. “For even thinking that.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Joe whispers, and as if returning the favour, kisses him again. 

"I could bloody murder you right now." Ben says, completely out of breath. 

“Not a bad way to die, I suppose,” Joe says without missing a beat, and leans forward to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, it took them 13 chapters. Can we say 'phew'? Or if you have better things to say, please tell us in the comment!


	14. Mad warm when I'm near you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay.   
Enjoy! ;)

Sometimes, Joe wants to tell himself to stop worrying so much, stop overthinking things all the time, but that is exactly when he would start, and the thoughts would overwhelm him and take over his mind that he could find neither a way out, nor a space to breathe.

He supposes he’s lucky that all these transpire figuratively rather than literally. And despite all of his worries and overthinking, Ben is persistent enough to tear down through every single brick wall he presented to him, every single time. It’s almost like he was made for this, he is so determined and relentless that Joe thinks,  _ it couldn’t be so wrong if it’s worth fighting this much for, isn’t it? _

He would also like to think that after all this time, he no longer has any illusion about love. That it would not, of all things, come and sweep him off his feet, take his breath away, make his heart skip a beat or lose his mind.

Except that it did, all of them, one at a time, beginning from the first time Ben told him he loves him, until this very moment that finds them kissing against the wall in the hallway of his home. How many times has he walked down this hallway with Ben when the younger man was staying at his place the couple of months he was in LA? If someone had told him then he would be kissing Ben like this, one hand around him, another on the side of his face, fingers in his hair, tongue in his mouth, kissing him so hard that he’s literally pressing him against the wall, he would have laughed.

He would have laughed so hard because that can’t possibly happen, because they’re friends, and falling in love with your best friend is messy and could turn ugly; it’s the most surefire way to break your heart in two places at once. He kept telling himself he doesn’t want that, he doesn’t want any of this heartbreak stuff anymore, that’s all loving someone has ever given him, it gives him a  _ fucking broken organ _ . He doesn’t even know if he has the strength or will to keep patching his heart up over and over again. And if it’s Ben,  _ please, just, no _ . He would rather have him as his best friend forever, never speak of anything more than that, never have him as anything beyond, and even if he has to carry the pain of longing in his heart forever, then so be it. It would be a thousand times better than ever losing him from his life. But then of course Ben had to tell him that he loves him, and that they shouldn’t be texting or talking until Joe could figure out his feelings for him too, effectively cutting himself off Joe’s life, when that was the exact thing that he had been trying so hard to avoid.

And of course, that had to be the one and only thing Ben had to do to him, to force him to figure out his feelings for him. He couldn’t even blame Ben for it, because that’s the logical and sensible thing to do. But there is nothing sensible and logical about what he feels and how much he wants him; the feelings he has for the younger man is like deepwater behind a dam, they’re carefully kept safe from breaking and running over everything with their force. He can’t possibly let them break free now, can he?

But that is exactly what he thinks is happening to him right now.

Before he knows it, Ben leans forward and away from the wall and he’s finishing what Joe had started; he’s walking them into the bedroom, his bedroom, which is just a few steps away. Joe is walking backwards, eyes mostly closed as they kiss until he feels the back of his legs touch the edge of the bed. Ben’s hands are still on his face and when they stop kissing and he opens his eyes again, Ben is cradling his face and looking right at him with such adoration that makes him feel lightheaded. It’s not like no one’s ever looked at him lovingly before, but not like this, not with  _ this _ kind of intensity. If there’s something he had learned for almost as long as he knew Ben is that he is really bad at half-assing anything and everything in his life. It’s a quality that he admires and appreciates in him as an actor, as a friend, and now, as  _ someone more than that _ . Joe still can’t quite grasp it. And then there’s this smile of his as well. The way he’s smiling at him right now, the corners of his mouth upturned, matching the creases where his eyes end, he shows no trace of the anger and frustration he was expressing only minutes ago. He knows that he is smiling too, mirroring Ben, and he has no doubt about how this entire thing is making him feel, but all these feelings he could see in Ben’s eyes--is he really the reason for them? 

Them just being here, standing and holding each other close, doing absolutely nothing and even barely breathing, is the reason why he is beaming, his green eyes staring into his own as if this is everything and also the only thing he has ever wanted.

Joe bites his lower lip and looks from Ben’s lips to his eyes and the blonde smiles even wider and sits them both by the edge of the bed, kicking his trainers off and Joe does the same. Soon, they’re kissing again, but slower now, as Ben is taking his time and Joe matches whatever tempo he wants to set, as long as they’re kissing. They could be doing just this, all night long, he wants to see the way Ben smiles and the green in his eyes lights up again and again in between their kisses and he wouldn’t tire of it. 

Ben lowers one if his hands from Joe’s face down his neck gently and lands it on his chest, palm flat over his sweater and starts pushing him backwards onto the mattress. Joe doesn’t resist and soon, Ben is kissing him, hovering over him, his hand still resting on his chest while his other hand finds his way into his hair now and Joe suddenly remembers that he’s here, in present time, wanting his brain to give him a command to move, to touch, to  _ do something _ , and as if waking up from a deep slumber, his body starts to move and his hands that were lying dormant on Ben’s waist, are now moving again and looking for contact, skin. He finds it by sneaking them under Ben’s sweater first on his side and slowly around his back, which makes the garment roll up a little. Apparently, Ben takes it as a hint and when Joe opens his eyes because they’re not kissing anymore, the blond is taking his sweater and undershirt all in one pull and tosses them to the side. Joe’s eyes widened, and it causes Ben to frown slightly at him now.

“What?” He asks, puzzled.

“No, it’s nothing.” 

“You didn’t want me to--?” Ben looks at the clothes he just discarded. 

“I didn’t mean to--” Joe tries to explain, frowning. It’s not that he doesn’t want Ben to take his clothes off, just perhaps he’s not expecting it to happen yet.

“I can put it back--”

“No, why would you?” Joe asks, sitting up a little. 

“Okay. Sorry, I thought you were--” Ben apologizes and Joe shakes his head. 

“No, I wasn’t, I was just--.” 

“Okay.”

“--startled a little,” he breathes out a soft laugh. He feels a little silly now. They feel a little silly. Like two teenagers making out for the first time. And he thinks it’s rather cute in their own silly way. “Unless you want to--” He left the sentence unfinished when he sees the rather unmasked answer in Ben’s eyes as he’s saying it. But wait,  _ is he blushing? _ “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Ben says, smiling and looking a little apologetic. “Sorry, I made it weird.” 

“Nothing weird and nothing to be sorry about--” Joe smiles back and sitting further up, winds his arms around Ben as he kisses him. He nudges and moves them so Ben is now lying on his back and scooting backwards so he’s lying down entirely on the bed. And just as if they’d have suddenly gotten better at predicting each other’s moves, at the exact same time Joe starts to move towards him, Ben opens his legs just enough so Joe can fit his knee in before laying down on top of him, his hands travelling across Ben’s abdomen, up his chest to his collarbones. Joe’s eyes follow his own hands’ movements upwards, paying attention to every crease and every dent of Ben’s torso and he hears him exhale so he looks up, smiling again. When he gets to Ben’s collarbones, he ducks his head there, plastering the smooth skin with kisses. 

Ben rakes Joe’s sweater up with undoubted intent this time, and Joe lets him take it off, reemerging from it with his hair all disheveled. But he doesn’t give it any thought and quickly resumes his position, back to kissing Ben’s collarbones and neck, with one hand on the opposite side. He then starts trailing a few open mouthed kisses down his chest but he feels Ben stirring below him and hears him chuckle nervously. When he looks up at him, Ben is biting his lower lip with his eyes closed and Joe feels like they’re hitting their second silly little bump so he stops and the blonde opens his eyes and looks down at him.

“Tell me what is it?” Joe asks softly, smiling a little.

Ben lets out a soft, airy laugh. “Nothing, nothing. Go on.” 

“Tell me, come on,” he coaxes him further, now that he feels more relaxed than earlier.

“Nothing I won’t get over in a minute, I promise.”

Joe puts a palm flat on Ben’s chest and he feels it bubbling underneath. He squints his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “Tell me anyway.”

Ben lets out a shaky exhale, “It’s just-- I’ve never done this before so I might be a little nervous.”

“What do you mean ‘this’?” he asks carefully, frowning. He knows for a fact that Ben is not a virgin but he can’t be saying--

“I’ve never been with a guy before.”

“Wait, are you serious?” He sits back on his heels and Ben follows him, sitting up, propping himself up on his elbows.  _ Wait _ . His mind does a quick backward jog of all the times they talked about stuff related to relationships.  _ Of course _ .

“Yeah, what, have you?”

Joe pauses, not hesitating, but looking into Ben’s eyes. “Yes.”

“Oh--”

“Look, Ben, we don’t have to--”

“No, no. That’s not-- I don’t mean I’m nervous about doing it with a guy,” Ben pauses and looks away for a moment, “Okay, maybe it’s a bit of that too,” the blond lets out a silent chuckle, “but I also can’t believe this is actually happening and I’m doing this with you.” Joe doesn’t say anything, he just keeps staring at Ben. He isn’t convinced at the slightest--and it’s not because he doesn’t think Ben meant every word he said--but because being nervous since he has never done this with a guy, and being nervous because he never thought he’d be doing all this with him, are two different things. But then Ben does something he didn’t expect; he reaches out with both hands to hold Joe’s face in his hand and gets closer to him, foreheads almost touching. “I’ve wanted this for a while. I really do want you.”

And Joe kinda wishes that those words and the earnest way they were being said didn’t make his rational thinking want to jump out of the window, because it’s not like he has not wanted this for a while too. It’s not like he has never thought about doing all this with Ben and have them burn him slowly and deliciously from the inside. “But we don’t need to rush it, we have all the time in the world,” he says instead, and means it too. There’s no way they’re doing anything that either of them feels even remotely hesitant about. Especially after knowing that Ben  _ has never _ \--just thinking about it right now is enough to give him anxiety. Honestly, he didn’t see that coming at all, seeing as how Ben has always been the one who is so unwaveringly sure about being with him--he has to admit he doesn’t quite know what to make of this. “I’m fine with making out all night and maybe fool around if you want. We don’t have to do anything, Ben, really.” He speaks softly, hoping to sound as persuasive and convincing as possible. They should take their time, he wants them to. He wants to know that Ben is completely okay with this. This is his first time--Joe can feel his stomach do a little flip at the thought--so he has to make sure that it’s perfect. “Besides, I don’t think I have any lube and there’s no way we’re doing this without it.”

“Actually--” Ben looks away and bites his lower lip, “I bought some on my way here.” 

Joe raises an eyebrow at him. “Wow, look at you Jones.” He grins and lets out a breathy laugh, partly nerves and partly sheer amusement. 

“Shut up.” There it is. The slight colour in his cheeks.  _ He’s blushing again _ .

He doesn’t know if he wants to take Ben by his shoulders to shake him, or to kiss him. So he does the next best thing. “So you thought you were getting lucky huh? Do I seem that easy to you?” he asks, grinning cheekily.

“You’re the hardest shag of my life, and the most bloody annoying too.” 

That made him burst into laughter. Honest, loud, almost hysterical laughter. And he’s glad that he did, and Ben is grinning at him while they’re looking at each other, as if they didn’t just make fun of each other  _ like that _ , like they usually do, just that this time they actually meant it. The sex part. As if Ben had not just told him a minute ago that he has never done this with any guy before, and then almost in the same breath, told him that he  _ really  _ wants him. Someone should put a restraining order on this guy so that he would stop being this reckless and so goddamn desirable while he’s at it too, Joe thinks.

“Okay,” he says more seriously now, although there’s still some remnants of laughter in his voice, and he’s still grinning even as he leans in and kisses Ben’s lips once. It ends up being longer than what he originally intended. “I’m taking that as a compliment,” he says against the blonde’s lips.

The kiss turns into more kisses as Joe lays himself back down on top of Ben again, one of his hands going back to the side of his neck, the other one on the side of his face, brushing his cheek with his thumb from time to time while Ben’s hands are on his sides, going up and down slowly. When Joe breaks the kiss and opens his eyes, he’s met with the sight of Ben’s blushed cheeks and swollen lips even before he opens his eyes, staring straight into Joe’s own. It’s amazing how determined Ben looks, that he wants this to happen, but at the same time there’s a sliver of what looks like the anxiety of not fully knowing what to expect. It makes Joe think that more than anything, more than even his own slow-burning desire for the blonde that he could feel firing up his entire insides and rapidly going to his groin, he wants--no, he needs to make sure that this will be perfect--for Ben.

“Would you like me to help you relax some more?” Joe whispers in Ben's ear and he nods in response. “Okay--” he kisses the blond one last time before starting to trail kisses down his neck and chest where he feels it falling up and down but he keeps going until he’s up on his knees, kissing Ben’s abdomen and hears him let out another deep exhale. Joe smiles at that, and soon, his hands find the button of Ben’s jeans. He looks up looking for confirmation that Ben is still okay with all of this and the blond, who’s looking at Joe’s every move, nods a few times so Joe unbuttons and unzips his jeans and pulls them down only enough to get his still underwear-covered and semi hard cock peek out. He leans down and kisses it over the fabric, open mouthed and hears Ben let out a little whimper and it finally registers in his mind what he’s about to do so his heart does a little fast drumming on his chest because yes, he might have done this before but he has never done this with Ben. He’s never made Ben moan before. He’s heard him let out many sounds throughout their friendship but never this and never because of him. But now all these sounds are _ mine and mine alone,  _ he says it over and over again in his head as he let it sink in--that this is happening right now and this moment is his to make anything of it--so he sits back on his heels and pulls Ben’s underwear down enough to let his, now hard, cock free and looks up at Ben, smiling a little mischievously with his eyes.

“Let’s  _ get down _ to business then.” 

Ben chuckles silently, rolling his eyes, biting his lower lip and shaking his head as he tries not to let out a laugh, and he doesn’t know what it is exactly but he loves seeing Ben a little out of sorts like this. But maybe not as much as how he loves the way his smile quickly vanishes when his lips finally make contact with Ben’s shaft. The way his entire face  _ changes _ . He tilts his head and kisses its side first with his tongue flat against it and starts pumping it slowly with one of his hands while the other holds Ben’s hips. He kisses his way up to the tip which he licks before replacing his hand with his own mouth, bobbing down bit by bit, his hand relocating to Ben’s lower abdomen. He picks up his pace steadily while he pays attention to every one of the blonds responses to his movements, squirming underneath him and panting regularly and softly. But when he starts moving faster he feels a hand come to his shoulder. 

“Joe--” Ben chokes out breathless. “Stop.”

And Joe does, he lets his cock go and wipes his mouth off with his hand. He looks up at Ben a little worried. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just-- I don’t wanna--” Ben doesn’t need to finish the sentence, Joe gets it immediately and nods. Then, the blond props himself up on his elbows first and then sits up straight with Joe between his legs and brings him into him by the neck for a deep, open mouthed kiss and Joe feels Ben’s tongue pushing inside his mouth with a self determination he hasn’t seen in Ben yet. And it makes him close his eyes and moan into the kiss. “I’m gonna get the lube.” He says when they break apart. 

Ben tucks his cock back into his underwear and sits further back a little so he can get up from the bed. Joe turns around and sits by the edge, watching Ben move around the room. With his back towards Joe, he takes his jeans off and now only on his black boxers, he’s going for his bag, picks it up and ruffles through it until he finds the small tube and a condom. He half turns to Joe and shows them to him, as if it was proof of something. Joe gives him a smile in return as he keeps watching him, now walk back to the bed and lean down to kiss Joe again, both arms at the side of Joe’s body. He leaves the lube and condom on the bed and goes for Joe’s jeans now, undoing his zip and button to get them off so Joe helps out, lifting himself up and pulling them down. Then, Ben stops kissing him and stands up straight in front of him and pulls his underwear down and steps out of them. It takes Joe a great deal of effort to honestly not look like a moron and stare at him with his jaw hanging open. But he can’t help looking at him up and down, unconsciously licking his lips as he does so.

“Like the view?” Ben teases him, he definitely seems more relaxed and is even smirking a little. Joe hums low in his throat, realizing now that he does look exactly like how he suspected he would--like an animal ready to pounce on its prey. So he leans back, and shrugs.

“‘S alright. Thighs need a little work.” He lifts a hand to touch one of them but Ben slaps it away playfully, with a shit eating grin on his face, while Joe mocks a surprise. Playing along, he growls as he grabs Ben’s hips and brings him to himself before sitting him down on his lap, Ben’s knees on each side of him, humming appreciatively as he does so. One of Ben’s hands comes to rest on Joe’s left shoulder and his other hand on top of Joe’s head, running his fingers through his hair, his thumb caressing his forehead. 

“Hi,” Ben says in a voice Joe barely recognizes. It’s like they’re talking for the first time in a new language but he understands it perfectly. 

“Hey yourself,” He replies, hands wrapping around Ben’s waist, going up his lower back. 

And so they kiss again, deep and long, and every brush of their lips and tongue is filling Joe’s entire body with electricity, tingling all over his limbs. Their mouths and heads move in perfect sync and the only sound in the room is their heavy breathing and the sounds they make when they kiss. That is until Ben breaks the kiss and Joe almost complains but doesn’t when the blond tilts his head back and sideways a little to kiss his neck and bucks his hips forward on Joe’s still covered cock, creating delicious friction. It’s evident that Ben finally found his footing and Joe is more than glad as he closes his eyes and moans softly at Ben’s ministrations on that soft spot just below his ear. Ben’s hands now travel from his shoulder and hair down onto the mattress and he palms on it a few times, Joe feels the dent on the surface. Next thing he knows, Ben’s hand is taking one of his hands away from his back and placing the condom and lube in them and squeezing it shut. 

“Ben, are you sure about this?” They’re looking into each other's eyes now, and despite his willingness to stop the moment Ben says so, he has to admit that things have gotten to a point where he kind of wishes they won’t. And if the mixture of want and determination in Ben’s eyes is any indication, he’s pretty sure they won’t be stopping anytime soon. And he has no illusion over the control he has on everything they’re doing right now, because he knows Ben has the same amount of, if not more, control over  _ him _ . That they’re doing what they’re doing right now only because Ben wants to, and right now he would do anything he wants him to do. If Ben would ask him right now to jump off of a plane without a parachute he’d probably ask how high. 

“Very,” Ben nods and lifts himself up from Joe’s lap. Joe watches him without even blinking as he moves to sit against some pillows at the top of the bed, legs extended in front of him. “Come ‘ere,” 

So Joe does, condom and lube in hand, he moves up to him and Ben slowly opens his legs once again to receive Joe between them. He discards his underwear before going to kneel between Ben’s legs and, after all this time, he finally runs a hand up and down the blond’s thigh, grinning. He then places a hand on one of Ben’s knees and pushes it up a little. Ben does the same with the other as Joe opens the condom with one hand and his teeth. He takes it out and rolls it on himself, all this with his other hand still on Ben’s knee and his eyes focused on the blond who’s watching his every move, breathing heavily in anticipation and he makes such a beautiful mind fucking sight that he can’t even believe he almost said no to having this. Thank God or the universe or whatever deity for Ben’s insufferable bulldozing persistence and blind faith in him. 

Once his cock is coated with lube, he discards the tube away and kisses his way up Ben’s thigh from his knee as Ben’s little pants increase in number and intensity little by little and he can’t wait to hear those become fully formed moans and grunts of pleasure. Joe plastering Ben’s inner thigh with open mouthed kisses seem to be setting Ben on fire because when he looks up, the blond’s chest heaving and flushed all the way up to his face.

“You can tell me to stop whenever you want or if anything is wrong okay?” Joe says reassuringly. Ben licks his lips and nods. 

With a tentative and gentle finger, he pushes in slowly as Ben blinks and lets out a few groans as he pants a little. Joe pushes his finger in completely, moving around before pulling it to its tip but not out, and he does this a few times as he takes mental notes of the way Ben moans or his breath hitches as his finger brushes certain areas inside him. Once he pulls his finger out completely, he positions himself and replaces the finger with his own hard cock, pushing just the tip in for now, looking for any sign of pain or discomfort from Ben. The blond has his mouth hanging open as he lets out a deep moan and closes his eyes shut. 

“Are you okay?” Ben bites his lower lip, nodding and humming an affirmative. So Joe goes in a little further which earns him a grunt, louder this time and-- _ fuck, he is so tight _ \--Joe has to focus on not thrusting in completely out of sheer need. As he keeps going in slowly, grunting and panting a little himself now, he leans down, torso pressed against Ben’s so he can look at him closer and kiss him. He puts a hand under his head at the nape of his neck and catches Ben’s bottom lip between his own lips and the blond instinctively closes his mouth and returns the kiss, eyes shut tight moaning into Joe’s mouth. 

Ben’s hands come to rest on Joe’s hips and he thrusts up, letting him know he’s ready for more so Joe starts moving. He sets a slow tempo first, short and paced thrusts that make Ben let go of his lips and grunt at every single one of them and Joe accompanies him with his own set of pants as well coming out directly from his throat, breathing hotly over Ben’s face. Joe ducks down a little, going for the crook of Ben's neck where he begins kissing and sucking and Ben throws his head back, giving him more access and runs one hand up from Joe’s hip to his bicep, gripping it tight and turning his face to kiss it and all the way up to Joe’s shoulder. 

So Joe starts picking up his pace a little more as he could feel Ben beginning to loosen but also tighten around his cock with each thrust which makes him gasp a little deliriously to say the least, and he lifts his head up again, looking for Ben’s lips--they’re kissing sloppily on the mouth and everywhere on their faces while neither can seem to control the moans coming out of their mouths. This goes on for a while, their hands roaming everywhere from their hair to Joe’s back, to Ben’s arms and chest until Ben’s hands finally land on Joe’s lower back and press it down against his abdomen where his hard cock is lying between them so Ben starts arching upwards to get some friction on it. Joe sneaks a hand between them and arches his back up a little so he can jerk Ben off with one hand while he lifts Ben hip, changing the angle and Ben cries out a raspy  _ fuck _ because of the sudden movement which sends Joe a new wave of shock through his body and he starts feeling the familiar tension at the pit of his stomach and with a few more precise and deeper thrusts, it unravels and Joe cums in waves, eyes tightly shut and mouth hanging open.

_ “Fuck, Benny,” _

He lets out as he breathes heavily through his orgasm, maintaining his position but not pulling out, not yet. When he opens his eyes, Ben is staring at him, eyes glazed and heavy with lust and he has never seen this look on Ben before--its newness making him even more breathless than the orgasm itself. So he leans down and kisses Ben hungrily and Ben kisses back just as intense and he starts pumping Ben’s cock again rapidly this time, his thumb playing with the tip. 

_ “Joe, Joe-- fuck,” _ the last word is dragged out of Ben’s mouth as he cums in Joe’s hand between their bodies and he takes a moment to watch Ben. Hovering over him, he feels him tense up and shake a little and his breathing hitches and Joe can hardly believe that not only he’s seeing Ben like this.  _ He _ did this. He made him do  _ that. _

Joe pulls out slowly, his eyes still fixed on Ben as he watches him shiver when he does and then he opens his eye. They look clear as day and Joe is ready to just drown in them. He lays down on top of him and kisses him again. And again, and again. Ben wraps his arms around him. He feels him smiling against the kiss so he smiles too and pulls away. Ben looks from Joe’s lips to his eyes and one of Joe’s hands pulls back the few hairs that are sticking to his forehead with a little sweat.

“So,” he says, looking into Ben’s eyes again, “still the most bloody annoying shag of your life ever?” He grins as Ben groans, rolling his eyes and pretending to push him away. 

“Yes,” he says. Joe grins wider and holds on tighter to Ben. “Yes, you are. Still bloody annoying, too.” Joe chuckles and leans in close, lips barely touching Ben’s, and the blonde doesn’t even wait to close the almost non-existent gap between them. Their kiss is slow and languid, not wanting it to go anywhere else, but also not wanting it to end. When they finally pull apart, it takes a few seconds for Ben to open his eyes again. And even then, they’re heavy-lidded, and when Joe puts his palm on his cheek, he tilts his head a little towards it and closes his eyes again, as if he’s about to fall asleep instantly with Joe’s palm pillowing the side of his face like that. How strange it is that Joe finds himself staring, taking in each and every movement and gesture Ben makes, every blink of his eyes, every shallow or deep creases the corners of his eyes or mouth makes, the way his head moves as he snuggles deeper into the pillow with Joe’s palm cushioning his cheek, the way his Adam’s apple moves up and down as he sighs softly.

Joe had to remind himself to blink. And breathe.

“You’re tired,” Joe says softly, and with his other hand, reaches up to comb Ben’s slightly damp golden locks with his fingers. It makes the blonde sighs deeper.

“Want to sleep,” he mumbles, eyes closed. Joe could imagine how tired he must be, physically and even more so, emotionally. Ben is never good at hiding or masking his mood or feelings, and he has been pretty much going from feeling prickly, to irritated, to angry and disappointed, all in less than 24 hours, and then, there’s this too.  _ The most difficult and annoying shag of his life _ . Joe wants to laugh again and tell Ben instead that he is his most perfect, that everything about this moment is perfect to him, that there’s nothing he would change about this, but he’s afraid it would sound contrite more than anything else, so he keeps the thought to himself, and kisses Ben on his temple instead.

Somewhere at the back of his head, he wonders if he should learn how to stop doing this. Keeping things to himself. But at the same time he knows no other way than this. If there’s something he has learned in the relationships he had been in is that nobody wants to be an audience to the tired, never-ending carousel of his thoughts and feelings. No matter how much they say they don’t mind, at the end of the day, they do mind, and they do find it exhausting. And he doesn’t blame them for it. He really does understand if he is the only person who has the patience for his overthinking. He really does.

So he finds it strange that Ben wants to know and hear everything, that for the duration that they’ve known each other he has never made him feel like he’s talking or saying too much even when he caught himself doing so. On the other hand, Ben might even feel slightly irritated when he realizes he doesn't know instead. It’s never something he expects from anyone, and he still doesn’t know how that makes him feel. 

_ You’re letting your thoughts run everywhere again _ , he tells himself. He’s still staring at Ben, and he quickly realizes that his breathing is getting more even, a sure sign that he’s drifting into sleep.

Joe thinks he could easily spend the next hour just staring at Ben sleeping. But that’s hardly the thing to do right now. “Let’s clean up so you can sleep.”

Ben makes a sound in his throat that sounds like a very earnest protest. “Do we have to?”

“All I’m saying is that you’re gonna sleep better after.”

Ben groans. “I’d like to argue I sleep better as long as you’re with me,” he says, tightening his arms around Joe with his eyes still closed.

Joe chuckles against his mouth before kissing him once. Twice. “Come on, Ben.”

Ben huffs “Fine, you’re right.”

_ “I always am.” _

“Shut up.” 

And Ben reaches out for him and kisses him one more time before they finally get up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... THAT happened!   
What do you guys think? Was it everything you hoped for? Are you disappointed? Let us know!!  
We love this honestly, but we want to know what you think.   
Thank you for still being there! We love reading your thoughts so comment away and make us happy <3


	15. It's not a bad thing to fall in love with me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some softness for us all in these troubling times.  
Enjoy!

Sleep starts to slowly lose its grip on Ben as he is stirring awake and regaining consciousness little by little. And his first thought of the morning is that he feels untouched. He opens his eyes suddenly and blinks a few times, trying to adjust his sight and for a fragment of a second, his still half asleep brain wonders if he’s dreamed the happenings of the night before so he fully wakes up in an instant, opening his eyes some more and lifting his head a little and turning it to the side as he’s lying on his back. He’s relieved to see Joe sleeping next to him, with his naked back towards him, covered up to his midsection with the bedsheets. Once more, he’s hit with a million feelings all at once. It seems that this is fast becoming a pattern, waking up with the redhead on his second day in LA, and he is both taken aback and relieved that this is real, Joe is real, and last night was very real. He wants to turn to him, press his chest against Joe’s back. Kiss his shoulders, hold him tight, breath him in. But he doesn’t. _Don’t suffocate him, he tells himself. _

He turns his face away from Joe and fixes his eyes to the ceiling now. This feels surreal, Ben can’t help but think. Just two days ago he was pretty sure everything went to shit. That his plan of being careful and giving Joe space backfired and now his friend hated him because why else wouldn’t he communicate with him for three bloody weeks? But Ben was wrong because last night, he had sex with Joe. _I had sex with Joe. We had sex._ It sounds impossible every time he hears it in his head and for a number of very different reasons too. But it happened and it didn’t even come close to anything he could have possibly fantasized or imagined. He’s starting to think that maybe he’s never felt like this before. And last night was absolutely different and mind-blowing and new. He can’t think of anything to compare it with, and understandably so too. Maybe he’ll never have to and Joe is all he’ll know from now on. And honestly, he kind of wishes that’s true, which is bloody terrifying. But he thinks it’s good that this thought terrifies him, it reinforces the feeling that this is the most important thing to him right now. That it wasn’t a whim or him just feeling lonely. That this wasn’t him challenging himself to something different. _This is fucking real._

He really hopes it is real. He really hopes that he doesn’t have to go back to the same spot he was three days ago, alone, heartbroken and hopeless in his own bed in London with the thought of losing Joe. Maybe for good. Still, there’s a pang of insecurity lingering in his mind. Joe told him he did want to be with him. _All the time_ he said, but what does it really mean? 

He wonders if he should put this thought to the back of his mind and ignore it. There’s no doubt that Joe wants him the same way he does him anymore, they do have feelings for each other, he’s now certain of that. No more wondering if he’s reading too much into it or misinterpreting things. Now, they’re definitely more than friends, they’ve crossed that line. But what does it mean? What is more? Joe just told him that he wanted to be with him and then hit him with a million reasons why he shouldn’t. So, does he want to be with him despite all his reservations and objections and worries? Was this, sex, going to be a one time thing they did? Did they just solve their sexual tension but nothing more at all? Or did he change Joe’s mind? No, that’s not possible and ridiculous. So what did? Did it change at all? _Did he just fuck everything up?_

This was the exact opposite of what he was trying to do. From the moment he got on the plane, he hadn't stopped thinking about what he was doing as a way to protect their friendship and his own heart and get a clear answer from the redhead. He had it all planned out, what he wanted to say and do, and in his head it went in a linear fashion like a carefully written script. But of course real life is not a scripted drama, and Joe is not a character in a movie, he’s a real person, and if there is anything he has learned about their relationship is that they could either understand each other completely without saying much or stumble over so many words without being able to make the other understand exactly what the other means. So it is true what people say, that love is hard work, and if there’s something that he knows he is good at in his life is exactly that, working hard and doing everything it takes to get what he wants. But he also needs to be sure that what he is going after is something he is allowed to have. He wants to hear that Joe loves him too, that he’s not here just so that they resolve some things and then forget about it. And he thought he was working on that, until Joe’s arms found their way around him, his lips on his and they were kissing like there was nothing else to be thought or said at that moment, nothing else more important than that. And the rest was a long episode of his rational thinking flying out of the window and his want taking over the steering wheel. 

Ben turns around and lies on his side, facing Joe’s back now and stretches a hand out, tracing Joe’s nape with his fingers. So Joe wants to be with him. _All the time._ He hears it echoing in his mind and it sounds like an answer but it’s just not enough. Not if they’re going to put their friendship and hearts at stake. 

_“What?”_

Ben hears Joe’s voice from beside him, muffled on the pillow. And as soon as he says it, he begins stirring and turning to face him, lying down on his stomach instead of his back. He looks warm and honeyed from sleep and Ben wants more than anything now to lean close and kiss him. But he doesn’t.

“What is it?” Joe insists, his eyes still heavy with sleep unlike Ben who’s been awake for a while and is exceptionally alert with all the thoughts running at lightspeed through his mind. He tucks his hand between his face and the pillow below him. 

“Nothing.” The blonde tries, puts on a smile that comes out half-hearted and voice sounding like there is definitely something hiding behind it. 

Joe makes a sound in his throat that tells Ben that he knows that Ben isn’t fooling anyone, least at all, him. “Tell me,” he says softly, closing his eyes for a little before opening them again, and they look clearer than before, more awake, alert and paying attention. He loves Joe’s attentiveness and incredible focus, so whenever he is there for him, he really is there, and the way he looks at him makes him feel like he _really_ is the only thing on his mind. But this isn’t about how Joe is making him feel important or loved, just by the way he looks at him. This is about something else, and he needs to think of how to say this so that it doesn’t come out all wrong and sharp-edged. So Ben shakes his head for now. Joe looks at him without saying anything for a few moments, eyes searching his. “Are you already regretting this?” he finally asks, and Ben instantly feels guilt stinging him for not being able to conceal any of his worries behind his face and curses at himself inwardly for being so fucking transparent that Joe can read his concern in his eyes and practically hear the ruckus inside his head. 

“No, Joe. Not at all, no. That was--” Ben starts saying but pauses when he sees Joe smiling and shifting closer in anticipation of his answer. He shakes his head again and smiles back at him. “Last night was amazing and a little mind-blowing for me.”

Joe raises his eyebrows a little before stretching a hand and placing it on Ben’s cheek and the next thing Ben sees is his eyes traveling all over his own face. _If he stares at me like that for a bit longer he’s going to bloody read my mind._

“That wasn't what I meant, but okay," he exhales, still smiling. "Tell me what's on your mind?” 

Ben looks down for a few seconds, like he’s staring at the nervousness he feels raising in the pit of his stomach, wishing he could just plaster a smile on his face and tell Joe it’s nothing and leave this conversation for another time. Maybe kiss Joe some more, they haven’t been kissing for a while and that feels like too long already and ridiculous because they’re here and together and they shouldn’t be doing anything else other than kissing now that they’re both willing to do it. But give him the worst actor award because, for the life of him, he can’t act in his real life, even less when he’s with Joe. 

He takes a deep breath through his nose and pouts slightly and involuntarily before he starts speaking. 

“So-- we’re together, yeah?”

And at that, Joe’s eyes widen slightly before he starts chuckling silently, _again_, Ben thinks. He just looks away for a moment but he’s not surprised or offended anymore. Strangely, he even expected it, so he keeps his silence. 

Joe opens his mouth to say something, but doesn’t. The next few seconds seem to tick loudly in Ben’s ears. “You think I didn’t really answer your question last night,” he says finally. 

“Yeah, I don’t.” He says, not sternly but softly. He doesn’t want to pick a fight, he just wants to stand in some stable ground and get out of this quicksand he feels is going to drown him any moment now even if he just stands still. “Because I don’t think what we did last night answered any of my questions or dissolve any of your worries. The only thing we resolved was the massive sexual tension we’ve been carrying around for ages.” 

“Okay.” Joe nods, biting his lip. Ben thinks he looks like he’s trying so hard not to say anything funny or sarcastic. It’s the first time either of them addresses their sexual tension out loud too. “Okay I get it. Because resolving sexual tension doesn’t mean we’re also in a relationship, right?” 

“I don’t know. Are we?” Ben asks, searching Joe’s eyes. “You asked me earlier what does this mean to me, us, and I told you and now you know. But I don’t think I know what it means to you.”

“Well,” Joe says, “it means, you,” he says, putting his pointer finger a little below Ben’s collarbone, “and me.” He brings the same finger back to land on his chest, pointing at himself.

Ben listens to him and thinks about how hard it seems for Joe to give him _real_ answers. He sighs. How difficult it is to just be honest and let out everything he keeps inside his chest? Surely talking to him and telling him things shouldn't be hard? All he has been doing so far is trying to convince Joe that it’s okay for him to say anything and everything on his mind about them. _About us. Talk to me about us._ “Joe,” he pauses and frowns a little before continuing. “That’s not what I’m asking. I want to know if you want to be with me,” he pauses again, swallowing, “like how I want to be with you.”

Joe sighs and lies down on his back to look at the ceiling. Without looking, he reaches out to take Ben’s hand in his and holds their joined hands up in the almost non-existent space between their bodies. “So you’re asking if I want to be with you too? Despite my abnormal amount of concerns.” He turns sideways to look at Ben. “Is this what you’re asking?”

“Yes. If you want to be with me despite all your worries and fears.”

It feels as if they’re just looking at each other for the longest time until Joe finally opens his mouth. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He says ambiguously as he exhales and turns to chuckle at the ceiling. Ben could feel his heart racing a little. He also wants to maybe shake Joe and ask him what is going on in his head right now, and what is it that is so hard to be said? But Joe is lacing their fingers together now, bringing the back of his hand to his lips even as he shifts closer and turns himself to face Ben. “You know what? I would still want to be with you even if I had five times the amount of concerns I have now. Isn’t that just the craziest thing?”

Ben leans in looking at Joe's lips, then up in his eyes and kisses him gently. He captures Joe's upper lip with his ever so slow and softly, his tongue pushing in a little, making the kiss deep but so sweet. He moves forward on the mattress, scooting closer to Joe until there's barely space between them, _as it should_, and he wraps an arm around Joe's waist, stroking his skin lightly with his fingers. 

"So you want to give this, _us_, a shot, yeah?" He insists, still looking for a clear confirmation. 

Joe bites his lower lip with a smile and nods. "Yeah,” he says, and louder, “yeah, I do.”

"Yeah, okay,” Ben is smiling back at him now. “That's all I'm asking, that we'll give this a chance." Then he looks slightly down and then back at Joe's eyes again. "I wish you'd understand that--there's nothing to worry about. All I want to do is love you. Nothing else. I don't want anything else to change, just--" he leans in and pecks Joe's lips. "that now we get to--" kisses his cheek, "do a lot more of this," trails kisses down his neck where he stays buried there, breathing him in, kissing him again and again.

“That’s--” Joe laughs in between his words and Ben’s kisses, feeling ridiculously light and happy. “--great.” And strange. He’s not used to feeling like this because of another person. His happiness has always been because of something he accomplished or did for others. He’s not used to _being made happy by another person_, if it makes any sense. Not that this is making much sense whatsoever, to begin with. The thought that he is now in a relationship, and in one with Ben, nonetheless, is enough to give him anxiety issues. But what Ben is saying is true; they have always had _something_ between them. They have a friendship to begin with, and the kind that isn’t quite the same with what they have with the rest of the gang. Do friends feel like they complete each other? Do friends miss each other so terribly that they’d hop on a plane for eleven hours just so they could be together? Do friends feel like they can’t get enough of each other all the time? Do friends get racing heartbeat, always wanting to touch and feel each other skin on skin? Do friends want to kiss each other all the time and do so like they really mean it? And what do friends do when they feel like this all the damn time?

Maybe if they choose not to change or break, they just become better instead. Like getting an upgrade to the operating system. They were friends before. Now they’re something deeper and more meaningful than just that.

He didn’t realize he was just staring at Ben as the blonde’s face hovers over his. “Are you overthinking this again?” he asks, not accusingly, just amusedly perhaps.

“No,” Joe says, “not overthinking. Just, thinking.”

Ben laughs. “Oh no. Tell me what you’re _thinking_ about.”

“I’m thinking about--” Joe drags the last vowel longer than necessary, taking a deep breath and drawing his eyebrows together in deep concentration, “how I can do this all day long.” He says, smiling even as he catches the blonde swiftly in a kiss, both hands on the side of his face and in his hair.

****

The next few days passed by languidly, days beginning late and nights stretching even later, at times merely a few hours before dawn. It’s a lot like when they were in London, just with a lot more skin involved. Maybe it’s not even an exaggeration to say that they barely leave each other alone, barely go minutes without a touch, even if it’s just an arm on shoulder or the backs of their hands touching, which is nothing out of the ordinary even for when they were friends. When they were _just friends_. How strange it is to think of it in past tense. And it’s not like they’re _no longer friends_. Everything still feels somewhat familiar, but better. Joe thinks of better when Ben leans close to kiss him right after he gives him one of those long eyes-on-lips stares, or when he tugs at his t-shirt by way of asking him to come close, or when he wakes up with the sun and Ben in his face, on his lips and skin, and letting it go anywhere they want it to go from there. Joe isn’t a morning person, but he could start liking his mornings even if it’s just for this.

And this morning isn’t an exception. They have been awake for over an hour, but neither seem to want to leave the bed yet as they’re having a ridiculous argument about how many hickeys they’ve left on each other, which naturally leads to more kissing everywhere else but on the lips. A lot of breathy laughs in between sharper inhales, deeper exhales and the occasional moans. Try concentrating on ordering take out while being kissed everywhere on the neck, shoulder and chest. Joe tells the blond he is seriously going to mess up this order, and the blond in question just laughs before sucking and biting harder on the soft skin between his neck and shoulder, and he had to stop because he couldn't tell the difference between the ‘order now’ and ‘cancel’ button on the screen while moaning. Try telling him that they need to get out of bed now while Ben is biting his lips, looking at him with heavy lidded eyes as he takes his turn trailing kisses down his chest and abdomen, stopping right before his belly button to sit up and declare the delivery guy will be here any minute now.

There’s a flash of disbelief he could see in Ben’s eyes, before he groans frustratedly and pouts as Joe goes back up and leans down to kiss his lips chastely once, and then again, this time parting them with his tongue. He presses the length of his whole body on Ben even as the blonde wraps both his arms around him, moaning into the kiss at the friction between the growing hardness in their boxers. So when Joe finally, and sneakily, frees himself from Ben’s arms, insisting on them getting up and out of bed for the second time now, Ben doesn’t even try to hide his frustration as he turns his head to groan loudly into the pillow.

Apparently the teasing doesn’t end there. Joe is the first to get on his feet, pick up a t-shirt strewn over the foot of the bed and walk to the kitchen while putting the piece of garment on himself, his phone in hand. He goes straight for the overhead kitchen cabinet and takes out two glasses, setting them on the kitchen counter together with his phone. He begins filling one of the glasses with water and Ben steps into the kitchen then, still only in his underwear, one of Joe’s clean t-shirts in hand. Then he begins putting the t-shirt on himself as Joe eyes him lazily, smirking around his glass as he watches one of his favourite morning scenes; Ben, blonde hair mussed up by sleep, pulling one of his t-shirts down over his back and chest, his broader shoulder making it a tighter fit. He doubts he will ever get tired of the sight of the gorgeous younger man in one of his t-shirts, looking warm and sleepy still.

“We really need to do some laundry, mate.” Ben says and casually sneaks up behind Joe, pressing his chest on the red-head’s back. But then his hands start roaming from Joe’s shoulder and down his sides before resting on his hips. He dips his mouth to start kissing his neck next, from its base and upwards until he reaches his ear. “You’re running out of clean t-shirts,” he whispers, clearly aware that he’s attacking where the redhead is more, if not the most, sensitive. It’s among the first fun things that he learned about Joe in the past few days, that doing things to his neck and ears never fails to, at the very least, makes him shudder, much like what’s happening right now. He grins, satisfied, as he rests his chin on Joe’s shoulder. Joe lets out a laugh, fully realizing what has just happened. He recovers pretty quickly though, and reaches for the other empty glass to fill it up with water.

“It’s not my fault that someone didn’t bother to pack more than two t-shirts and a pair of jeans.” Joe says while he turns around and gets trapped between Ben’s body and the kitchen counter behind him. He rests the newly-filled glass of water against Ben’s chest. The blonde takes it, brushing their fingers more than is necessary.

“It is a bit of your fault actually.” He doesn’t drink the water, but dips down and kisses Joe, gently first, just a little peck and smiles into it because who needs water when he could be doing this instead. Then, quickly enough, the kiss grows deeper and the glass of water in his hand goes back to the kitchen countertop as he needs both his hands to touch and hold Joe, as if he had not done so countless times this morning alone. He tells himself it will never be enough, though. To neither's surprise, it turns into a full on making out in no time, one that is only interrupted by the doorbell ringing. Ben grunts, wondering how many more times they would be interrupted that day.

“That’s our brunch,” Joe says a little breathlessly against Ben’s lips.

“Okay--” he replies, drawing out the sound as he keeps staring at Joe’s lips. It took him a couple of seconds to finally and reluctantly push himself away from the redhead, but not before kissing him one last time. “I’ll get it.” 

Joe watches him leave the kitchen before he turns around to pick up the glasses, his and Ben’s still untouched one, and take them to the living room but the lit-up display of his phone catches his attention. His eyes widen as he reads the text message preview on the screen. 

“Oh _shit_.”

When Ben opens the door, it’s not a delivery person who he finds in front of him but Lucy, looking down at her phone. “Lucy?”

Lucy looks up, phone still in her hand and she mirrors the dumbfounded look on Ben’s face.

“Ben?” her eyes then quickly fall on Joe who’s coming up behind Ben, his phone in hand as well.

“What are you doing here?” Ben asks.

“Umm--I was about to say,” Joe says, a little too late, “it’s not our food.” He lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s holding. “Hi, Lucy.” He could see the change in Lucy’s expression as she eyes them both up and down and something in her mind clicks. She chooses not to reply to Joe, but looks straight at Ben instead. 

“I could ask you the same thing, _Ben_.” Only then she turns to look at Joe, staring at him with a look which tells him that he’s about to get into trouble, and then at Ben again. “I would also like to know what the _bloody fuck_ is going on here,” she says, stepping inside Joe’s apartment without asking and continues talking without waiting for any of them to answer her. Not that either of them knows what to say to her.

“Because Gwil is looking for you,” she turns and points at Ben with her hand that is holding her iPhone as Ben follows behind her after closing the door, “and I have been worried sick about you,” she gestures at Joe next. “And neither of you have even been on the groupchat for days,” she taps the screen of her iPhone. “And now, suddenly I find both of you here.” She pauses, looking from the blonde to the redhead as if she’s a school principal glaring at two very naughty students who are about to get detention. 

“So, who’s going to talk?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, oh. The boys are in toruble! hahaha Glad we finally get to add Lucy into the mix!!  
Big Lucy stans here, nothing but respect for our queen.  
Please, let us know what you think about this chapter! It's sort of a filler but some things are being put into perspective and being clarified and easing one blond's mind finally. How long do you guys think they honeymoon phase will last?  
Comment please! You have nothing better to do right now haha!  
Stay home kids and take care of yourselves and each other. <3  
(If anyone needs to talk and is having a rough time during this social isolation don't hesitate and contact us through our tumblrs or let us know where we can contact you <3 )


	16. When I'm with you, everything glows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter that doesn't happen in bed. Can you believe?  
Don't get used to it haha

“Well?” Lucy asks insistently with her eyebrows up to her hairline as she keeps her eyes on them, going from one to another. There’s no getting away with things this time. Not that they have anything to hide or want to do so but this isn’t ideal. Being found out isn’t ideal. Especially not when getting to this point had been a real emotional struggle for both of them. They had barely talked about being on the same page about this all-too-new relationship a few days ago. It hasn’t even been a week. They haven’t even gotten to the point where they discussed telling people yet, and Ben has to admit it unnerves him a little to think about what could possibly go on in Joe’s mind right now. He recalls this very clearly as one of the items on the very long list of Joe’s concerns. And they promised each other they will work things out together. But here they are, caught completely off guard by Lucy suddenly appearing on Joe’s front door, wanting to know what’s up with them. It feels a lot like things are happening despite him thinking that perhaps they’re not ready for this yet. But then again, when in life are you given the chance to do something or not just because you’re not ready anyway? 

Ben glances from Lucy to Joe and honestly, he fully expects the redhead to reflect some of his worries too. But when his eyes land on Joe, he actually looks relaxed. He holds his gaze on Joe for a while, not quite believing what he is seeing. He looks calm and composed, not even fidgeting in any way or stringing his fingers together like sometimes he tends to do out of habit when he’s anxious. And that is definitely a huge relief. So, he walks further into the living room with Lucy, telling himself to watch Joe closely and take his cue from him. 

“Look, Luce--” Joe says, pausing to take a deep breath,  “do you wanna sit maybe?”

“No.” She answers curtly.

“I’ll sit.” Ben says, hoping the way he says it reflects the calm in Joe’s tone of voice. He walks towards the couch, sits down comfortably with legs slightly apart and Joe does the same, both of them now looking up at Lucy, whose arms are crossed on her chest as she purses her lips, looking mildly irritated. 

“Okay, I’m listening.” 

Joe speaks again, clearing his throat as he does so. “We didn’t mean to disappear completely like that, okay? It just sort of--happened,” he shrugs.

“So you two are a  _ we _ now?” she raises an eyebrow at them.

“Yes,” Ben offers, turning to Joe as he says it, looking right into his eyes for any adverse reaction, and he finds none. 

“Yes,” Joe says, confirming it as he looks unwaveringly at Lucy, “yes, we are,” he says again as he turns to look at Ben now, and the blonde can’t help but smile at the way Joe said those words, they’re not even the grandest words or a lengthy monologue but they’re more than enough. Isn’t it the craziest thing, this swelling and bursting feeling he has in his chest just because Joe said a few words affirming the fact that they’re together? He is both aware and yet could barely care less about the way they must look like in front of Lucy right now, him smiling up to his eyes as he looks at Joe and the redhead mirroring his looks. It feels like exhaling after holding a breath for far too long, and Ben is proud of the way they’re handling this unexpected surprise, and the fact that Joe does not intend to hide or lie about their feelings for each other.

“Can you two cut it out?” Lucy snaps her fingers in front of their faces. “I’m trying to be mad at you here and it’s not working when you’re looking at each other like _ that! _ ” Both men chuckle, their gaze lingering for a moment longer before turning to look at Lucy again. She has a hand on her hip, and is sighing dramatically. “Seriously, boys,” she says in a resigned tone, “we were  _ really _ worried.” And then, getting a little worked up again, she raises her voice slightly, but all three of them know it’s just for theatrics, “couldn’t you have let us know you were okay at least? Because apparently, you are. You are more than okay!” She stretches out both hands in front of her with both palms up, gesturing at her two very underdressed friends. 

“We are  _ now _ .” Ben says, stressing the last word. “But we did have some shit to figure out by ourselves before this,” he glances quickly at Joe, wondering if they’re going to say more beyond that. 

As if sensing it, Joe adds, “we weren’t exactly talking after London.”

Lucy nods. “Yeah, I noticed it when we were in New York.” She says solemnly. Her arms are both down and relaxed on her sides and she is not clutching her phone tightly anymore.

“You did?” Joe asks, frowning a little.

“Yes, Joseph, of course I did. Give me a little credit.” Lucy huffs and walks around the coffee table to sit on it, opposite the two.

“Well you never said anything,” he retorts.

Lucy sighs. “You should see the way you  _ moped _ in New York. And I did say that you could tell me if anything is bothering you. And if it’s about London, or Ben,” she gestures at the blonde with her chin. “Twice,” she puts up two fingers in front of her. She opens her mouth to continue but doesn’t when her phone dings. She looks at the screen instead. “It’s Rami,” she says, and then looks up at her two friends. “Says he’ll be here any minute now. He stopped by the hotel first to leave our luggage.”

“Oh please come over uninvited whenever you like,” Joe says with his usual sarcasm and Ben grins when Lucy rolls her eyes.

“Not my fault that you two were  _ too busy _ that you didn’t even check your phones,” she replies with equal amount of sarcasm in her tone.

“Okay, okay, fair point,” Joe offers, palms up in surrender and Ben laughs next to him, trying to hide the slight blush he feels creeping up his cheeks.

“Look at you two, blushing like that,” she coos, continuing to take a jab at her friends, but she is also genuinely smiling now, and brightly too, for a change. “ I’m  _ so _ happy for you two. Really. It was about damn time too.” When she says the latter, she looks especially at Joe. “I’m really glad you are  _ more than okay _ and here, and together.” She claps once and adds, “but you should change before Rami gets here though, go get decent.” She shoos them off with her hands, and they both get up from the couch without much fanfare or protest.

They head to Joe’s bedroom in silence, and Ben wonders if Joe feels the same amount of surrealness that he is feeling right now, and if he is a little dazed by this, and the fact that Rami is going to be here soon too. He doesn’t know how it makes Joe feel, having to suddenly face his friend of 11 years and tell him about this. About  _ them _ . “Do you think they will tell Gwil too?” he asks Joe about Gwil instead, studying his expression closely even as they start taking off their t-shirts almost at the same time, but this time, for the first time in a few days, without any suggestiveness involved. 

“Knowing Lucy?” he shrugs, “yes, Gwil will definitely hear about us too,” he chuckles for good measure before turning to Ben to smile at him, genuinely and reassuringly this time, as if telling him that he is okay, he is handling this fine. Ben smiles back at him too, wanting so badly to kiss or hug him right now but they do have this getting dressed thing to take care of at the moment. So they set about their task quickly without anymore talking, getting in and out of the bathroom and pulling out whatever clean clothes Joe has that Ben could wear.

Ben had just finished putting on one of Joe’s more baggy jeans which hugs his hips and legs in a snug fit, and is about to put one of Joe’s white undershirts on when the doorbell rings again. Joe has a pair of khakis and his white undershirt on too, and is grabbing a sweater to pull over the undershirt.

“I’ll get it!” Lucy calls out from the living room. It turns out that the food Joe had ordered earlier had arrived, and a few feet behind the delivery guy, Rami is walking up the path towards the door.

“We ordered so much food?” Rami asks Lucy as he steps into the house. “Hi Joe,” he says to the redhead who is walking into the living room. Ben shows up immediately after. “Oh, hi Ben,” he says, smiling wider now, genuinely happy to see the blonde unexpectedly at Joe’s. He places the food he’s carrying on the coffee table in the living room. Rami’s infectious smile makes Ben forget momentarily about what’s happening, or about to happen, especially since Rami is now pulling him into a tight hug. “Great seeing you here in LA.” Rami is still looking at him with that warm and generous smile on his face, and it’s hard to say what’s exactly going on behind those large doe eyes trained on him so intently. But Rami does not say or ask anything else after that, and Ben breathes easy again. They move to the dining area with all the packed food, and begin opening boxes and packages to lay out all the food on the table. 

“So Ben, what are you doing back here in LA so soon?” Rami asks curiously after filling them in about why Lucy and him are here, which is mostly because of work, he tells them. “Something work related too?” By this time they are all seated at the dining table, and have begun digging into their food.

Ben almost chokes on his pasta, not seeing the question coming and definitely neither expecting the spotlight on him, nor to be the one telling Rami about him and Joe. The words get stuck in his throat and he looks at Lucy next to Rami who is grinning from ear to ear, almost bouncing on her seat. Then he looks at Joe. He is somewhat relieved to see that Joe still looks as calm and composed as before, and something in his eyes is telling Ben that it is okay for him to say anything that comes to mind. He holds his gaze on Joe for a couple of seconds more, just to see if anything would shift or change, but the reassurance he sees there, stays. 

He takes a deep breath, finally taking his eyes off Joe’s. “Umm… no, nothing work related,” he starts, and is about to continue when Lucy stops him.

“Wait,” Lucy says, “are you telling him now?” she asks, grabbing her phone as she does. Everyone stares at her.

“What’s going on?” Rami asks, completely lost, looking from his girlfriend to his friends in front of him. 

“What are you doing?” Ben asks in the middle of a nervous-sounding chuckle.

“I’m calling Gwil,” She says matter of factly.

Ben looks over at Joe next to him with his eyes widened and Joe raises his eyebrows at him by way of a reply, shifting his eyes to Lucy’s direction, as if telling him, ‘I told you so’. He picks up his glass of water to drink from it, but not before grinning at Ben, and it puts him at ease.  _ We’re in this together _ , Ben tells himself, as if it’s exactly what Joe is telling him too, so he relaxes and smiles back at the redhead. What he doesn’t realise is that Rami has been watching this little exchange they had, smiling to himself in the process. 

“Hi Lucy,” they hear the Welshman’s voice after the line connects.

“Hey Gwil,” she pauses, a wicked grin on her face, “So, I found Ben and Joe,” she pauses again for emphasis. Ben almost winces. “And we’re having brunch here at Joe’s in LA, the four of us,” there’s a short pause and she continues, “and I think Ben wants to tell us something.” She’s not cackling evilly after saying that, but she might as well be.

They all hear Gwil sigh at the other end. “Hello, everyone. Glad to know you’re alive, Ben,” he says.

“I’m glad too, thanks?” Ben says, rolling his eyes a little. “Hi, mate.”

Everyone greets Gwil as well and Lucy continues, “So Ben, you were saying?”

Rami looks from the phone to Lucy with a lot of amusement in his eyes. If he had any doubt about what he thought he saw when his two best friends were exchanging looks and smiles earlier, looking at Ben now, in front of him, shifting in his seat uncomfortably and looking at Joe unconsciously for support or reassurance or both, all of his doubts would have been obliterated completely by now.

“Well I was just gonna tell Rami--” Ben says, pausing and starting again, “about what I’m doing here in LA again,” he puts a hand to the nape of his head and glances quickly at Joe, trying not to look flustered. He keeps getting caught off guard today and feels put on the spot, which he’s not really enjoying or handling well. And it’s not that he is uncomfortable about the fact that he and Joe are no longer merely friends but in a relationship now, he has never felt something as  _ right _ as this in his life before, but all the unnecessary attention his friends are putting on this, on  _ them _ , is grinding on his nerves a little. And apparently Joe is reading his mind. Or honestly, he just has a pair of functioning eyes and could see how uncomfortable Ben is right now so he speaks up instead. 

“He came to see me,” Joe continues, “we had some things to sort out after we last met in London.”

“Weren’t really talking to each other then,” Ben adds, and if Gwil or Rami are surprised to hear this, none of them show any trace of it. Or maybe they aren’t?

“Yeah, but we’re alright now,” Joe says reassuringly, as if it’s not apparent enough that they’re talking to each other fine now, they’re even finishing each other’s sentences. There’s a pause before anyone says anything else.

“Uh-uh.” It was Gwil, over the line, expecting to hear more.

Neither of them speaks immediately, and he knows if he doesn’t, Joe will say it. But what’s stopping him from saying it instead?

“And we’re,” he clears his throat a little, “we’re together now, Joe and I.”

Lucy is grinning so wide now that she’s almost squealing. Meanwhile, Rami breaks into one of his perpetually amused smiles, before looking over at his over-the-moon girlfriend, shaking his head and running his palm over his face. There’s a long pause, so pregnant and thick in the air, where Lucy is just staring at her phone expectantly. No one says anything for what seems like forever, until Gwil breaks the silence from the other end. 

“Bloody hell, you two!” the Welshman exclaims. As if she had been waiting for her cue, Lucy immediately starts laughing hysterically. 

“What the fuck?” Ben mutters out of surprise, loud enough to be heard by everyone.

“I knew I was right!!” Lucy squeals excitedly, cackling a little for good measure. “Ah, the sweet taste of being right and winning.” she says dramatically, as if she’s reading a line onstage. 

Joe chuckles defeatedly, shaking his head, not altogether surprised at where he thinks this is going. “Okay, what’s going on here?”

“Gwil and I had a bet going on for the past several days,”  Lucy starts explaining.

“On second thought, maybe I don’t want to know,” Joe says quickly, but Lucy ignores him and continues. 

“When you both disappeared completely I said you two are together in LA and he said he didn’t think so,” Lucy says, playfully making fun of Gwil.

“Well it’s not my fault that I saw Ben a few weeks ago and he was being bitchy about Joe, I thought they fucked everything up!” Gwil complains on the other end of the line. 

“Hey!” Ben protests. 

“I caught them,” Lucy tells Gwil in a conspiratorial tone, “ _ red handed _ , you would have loved the scene I walked into today Gwilym.”

“No, Lucy,” Joe deadpans, “you did not catch us red-handed at anything, everyone was dressed, thank you.”

“Yeah, in your  _ underwear _ ,” Lucy retorts. Beside her, Rami splutters.

“TMI, guys,” Gwil warns.

“I honestly expected better from you two,” Joe says in feigned disappointment, even as he could feel blood rushing to his cheeks. When he glances quickly at Ben, the blonde is trying not to look visibly upset. “Especially you, Gwilym.”

“Well if you two disappear without saying anything, does that leave us with any other choice?”

“I just want to add,” Rami chimes in, “that I had nothing to do with this bet,” he says solemnly before putting his food in his mouth.

Lucy rolls her eyes, “Only because you were too scared to take a side! I added him to the group chat and he left immediately. Now Gwil and I have a group chat called ‘The Bet’ and it’s just the two of us telling each other conspiracy theories about you two.”

“Unbelievable,” Ben says, shaking his head. He thinks it’s not too much to admit that  he’s a little frustrated that their friends are having a laugh about this when he’s been going through hell for the past three weeks . But then he glances at Joe who’s shaking his head and smiling, unperturbed and seemingly amused by their friends’ antics and Ben takes a deep breath. Maybe he’s looking into this way too seriously. Maybe it’s just the way their friends are. Well-meaning but annoying, all at the same time.

“Speaking of wild theories,” Lucy smirks.

“Nope.” Joe says despite his smile, putting his palm down on the table.

“I second that,” Ben says quickly.

“Aren’t you at least a teeny bit curious?” She bats her eyelashes at them, pouting a little.

Ben glances at Joe and he actually looks a little swayed by her antics. “Actually, no,” he says firmly this time, neither giving the time nor chance for Joe to change his mind. “I think that’s quite enough, don’t you think?” he says, looking at Joe.

As if regaining his full consciousness, Joe clears his throat and agrees. “Yes, I think so too.”

“I second that,” Rami agrees quickly.

“You guys are no fun,” Lucy complains, still pouting. “Anyway, next time we all get together, whenever that is, the meal is on Gwil,” she declares triumphantly.

“Well, excuse me for not being a psychic,” Gwil says, and Ben thinks he could see the tall Welshman rolling his eyes to the back of his head. “But I’m more than happy to pay for everyone’s meals and seconds because this is the best bet I could have ever lost and I’m more than happy I did,” he says in a much warmer and happier tone, and Ben couldn’t help but smile genuinely this time. He imagines that if Gwil was actually in front of them right now, he’d have some more choice words to say to them both, but would also instantly give them one of his big and heartfelt hugs. Ben kinda misses him now.

“Thanks big man,” and it’s the first time since Lucy rang the doorbell earlier that Ben’s voice sounds relaxed, “With that said,” Ben puts his cutlery down on his plate and pushes his chair back, standing up with both palms on the table, “I’m going to go for a smoke,” He squeezes Joe’s shoulder before walking away from the table and out to the patio. 

Lucy follows Ben with her eyes and is biting the inside of her lips for a moment. She leaves the phone on the table and looks at Joe, “I’m just gonna...?” She points with her head towards where Ben left just now and Joe signals her with his hand as if saying ‘go ahead’ “Leave you with the boys Gwil, bye!” She stands up from the table and makes her way out to the patio. Behind her, she could hear Joe sighing loudly while Rami is laughing at something that Gwil said, right before she steps outside. The noise dies down the moment she closes the glass sliding door behind her. 

“Hey,” She stands next to Ben, who’s standing behind the wrought-iron table where an ashtray is placed as he smokes away. She presses her shoulder to his and bumps them before looking up at him and smiling cheekily. Ben nips at his bottom lip with a smile and shakes his head. “You know I’m just taking the piss, right?”

Ben nods before exhaling smoke away from her, “Yeah, I know.” 

“You’re not upset, are you?” 

“Not upset,” he ponders for a moment, “Just--caught off guard. I feel like it took me forever to get here and now we went from 0 to 100 in a second.”

Lucy chuckles, “aren’t you the expert on that?”

“You’d think I am,” Ben chuckles along with her because she’s right, and he’s been told this  _ a lot _ , “but not when it comes to  _ him _ ,” he looks past her towards the sliding door and back at her. 

“Well, if it makes things any easier, and all joking aside, we are just genuinely happy for you two,” she pauses and adds, “ _ finally _ .” He chuckles at her word and despite his curiosity, doesn’t ask. He doesn’t want to know what her ‘ _ finally'  _ means. In all honesty, he could probably make a good guess. Maybe he just doesn’t want to know how obvious he could be around the redhead. She half turns to stand in front of him and opens her arms, bringing him in for a hug and he steps forward hugging her back. 

“Thanks Luce,” he says, and Lucy can’t seem to stop smiling even when they pull away from each other. “This is good, you know? Both of you look happy. He,” Lucy gestures with her eyes and chin to Joe behind the glass door, now laughing too hard with both palms over his eyes, “was a mess in New York, just saying.” She chuckles a little, still looking inside through the glass door. Then Ben sees Joe removing his palms from his face quickly and start shouting at Lucy’s phone, while Rami is holding it up on one hand, and trying not to cry from laughing too much. It looks like a certified mess. Ben shakes his head, resisting to say more. He could go on and on about it if he wants to. Perhaps it really wasn’t the best decision to make, to put the distance and silence between them after what happened in London. But he has made amends, didn’t he? He’s in LA now. With Joe. And they had finally agreed to give being together a shot.

Lucy steps away and walks back to the sliding glass door. When she opens it, the laughter of the two men spills out, roaring against the peaceful silence of the afternoon. Ben finds himself grinning, looking at Joe, laughing so much that his eyes are closed, and he’s almost doubled over. He still has half of a cigarette still, so he takes another drag as Lucy slides the door close. Rami and Joe have just ended the phonecall with Gwil apparently, since her phone is left lying on the table, its screen display already turned off. “I’m gonna use the bathroom,” she says, turning to her right and disappearing behind the corner of the hallway.

Joe and Rami look at each other now that their laughter has subsided. They’re still grinning. It’s always a riot when they’re talking to Gwil. Joe then looks up and ahead of him, through the glass sliding door and to the patio where Ben is exhaling smoke, the cigarette between his fingers almost worked halfway up to its stub. Rami then looks ahead too, and smiles slightly as he looks at the way his friend is looking at the younger man smoking outside on his patio.

“Isn’t it a wonder,” Rami says, pausing without meaning to continue.

“What is?” Joe asks without turning to him.

“This movie. Has it been a year now? More than a year.”

“Depending on when you start counting,” Joe says, turning to look at Rami now.

“It just--” he pauses, “has a way of bringing happiness to people,” Rami says and Joe raises an eyebrow inquisitively. “Allen is married, I found the girl of my dreams, you and Ben found each other,” Rami continues, before turning to look at Joe.

“You got your first Oscar, too,” Joe adds.

“Yeah, that too.” Rami smiles then. They both fall silent for a while. “I think it’s Freddie.”

“You think so?” Joe asks.

“I think so, yeah.”

Joe nods quietly, looking ahead of him. The glass sliding door opens and Ben steps in. When their eyes meet, Ben smiles. “Yeah,” Joe agrees with him, smiling back at Ben. His entire figure seems to glow, framed by the sunlight coming in through the opening behind him. “I think so too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucy is a RIOT and we love her for it!! They needed someone to remind them that this isn't as a big deal as they think it is and that everyone is more than happy for them.  
Anway, a happy funny chapter in this trying times and also after all that emotional rollercoaster. Had so much fun writing this one and the gang. Expect to see more of them soon.  
And for the anon that was asking for Rami, here he is! If only you guys would be a little more patient maybe? hahaha
> 
> Please let us know what you think about this chapter, come on you don't have much else to do.  
Stay safe everyone. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hit us up on Tumblr!  
[Allie](https://halfasleepoetry.tumblr.com/)'s and [Nadia's](https://heybuddy-drabbles.tumblr.com/). 


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